


¡Viva La Cobra!

by mikeyskies



Category: Cobra Starship, Fall Out Boy
Genre: Alternate Universe - Reality Show, Canon Jewish Character, Crack, F/M, M/M, Mpreg, Pete’s a dick, based on MTV reality show shorts
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-10-06
Updated: 2019-07-09
Packaged: 2019-07-27 06:45:16
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 32,587
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16213619
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mikeyskies/pseuds/mikeyskies
Summary: A shit show story behind a few of the one-shots from the MTV reality show shorts involving Cobra Starship.Or: the one where they’re all fucking screwed





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> So this is my first attempt at writing something long and big in a while. Wasn’t sure whether or not to split it up, or keep it as a one shot, but I’m impatient so this is happening. 
> 
> Here’s the short I’m sure we’re all familiar with lol https://youtu.be/kgDJBIjaqj4  
> (The whole video is funny, but for the specific short, I recommend skipping in 2:48) 
> 
> Shout out to lilianasnow for beta reading xo luv u
> 
>  
> 
> Also, even though I am jewish, I don’t censor g-d. It’s just something I never grew up with, so if it bothers you, here’s a warning.

The first time Gabe found himself hunched over the toilet of the Viva La Cobra mansion, he thought nothing of it. He was hanging out with everyone else the night before, drinking way too much than he should have, forgetting about his intent to detox. They were celebrating the new show, being on MTV, having this huge, fancy house to themselves. Of course they were getting a little drunk, getting wasted was the Cobra brand. He thought nothing of the hangover then, puked, downed a cup of black coffee, and fell back asleep for another three hours until noon. Easy. 

\- ~ -

The next few mornings, he continued to think nothing of it. He had learned this lesson multiple times- don’t expect to hold your alcohol as well after sobering up for a few weeks. Of course he was hung over for a few days, his vodka consumption was greater than his water intake. He shrugged it off, and went back to ignoring the splitting headache. 

\- ~ - 

It was another week and a half before Ryland noticed something was up. Gabe would flush his toilet, go downstairs and make coffee, and go back up, like clockwork, at 8:30 in the morning. Ryland knew there was no way in hell Gabe was waking up of his own free will before 10:00. Unfortunately, when questioned, Gabe was just as clueless as Ryland. 

“Dude, I’m just fucking hung over, calm your shit bro.” Gabe whined through his migraine. 

“We haven’t gotten wasted in two fucking weeks, Gabe.” He pointed out. “What’s wrong?”

“I don’t damn know, Ryland, you think I’d be waking up at the crack of dawn-“

“Eight thirty is not the crack of dawn”

“- if I knew what it was? I’m sure it’s nothing.”

Ryland sighed. “Throwing up for two weeks straight isn’t “nothing” Gabe. Take care of yourself. Go to a doctor.” Gabe rolled his eyes. 

“Fine, whatever. It’s not like you own me.” Gabe grumbled, “Of anything- I own you.” 

Ryland rolled his eyes at the inaccuracy of the statement, but he was an actor and Gabe was a poli sci and psychology major. They could both bullshit the hell out of anything, and it was better not to argue in circles. “If anyone owns us, it’s your fuckbuddy. Don’t even pretend I don’t know what’s happening with Pete.”

Gabe’s jaw dropped to the floor. “You wouldn’t dare.”

“I haven’t told anyone- okay, maybe I told Suarez, but I’m not lying to my best friend-“

“I don’t care if you tell your boy toy.”

“Dickhead. And he was basically there too. But that’s all.”

“What are your plans?” 

“I should be asking you that question- what’s to happen when a famous married man is found out to be fucking his male employee? But I won’t tell anyone. I love this band as much as you do, and hell, I love your idiot ass sometimes too.”

Gabe nodded his thank you, stomach full of butterfli- no, definitely not butterflies, he thought as he lurched for the bathroom. 

\- ~ -

Gabe followed Ryland’s advice to an extent. He didn’t go to a doctor’s office, because that’s not what Gabe Saporta does. And maybe because it’s not just hangover symptoms anymore. He’s always tired and he’s so cramped up in his abs. He’s woken up every day feeling, in his own words, “pretty fucking bad.” He’s gassy and constipated, not that he’d ever admit it, and his chest hurts like hell. But it’s still not enough to consider wasting a copay. 

Instead, he called his father, which counts as a doctor’s visit in his book. Diego listened to him bitch about his symptoms, then turned it around and lectures him on how he should be taking better care of himself, and how he somehow managed to get sick in the middle of the summer. Then he thought about it really, and asked when’s the last time Gabe got tested for STDs. 

Gabe wanted to yell at him for even bringing up, until he realized it’s been a year, maybe longer and maybe his dad has a point. 

His dad was supportive, trying his best not to judge his son for this, but fuck, Gabe was embarrassed. It takes a lot to embarrass him, but he knew he should have been more careful. The last person he was with was Pete, who he trusted, and knew was clean before, so they didn’t bother with protection. But he didn’t know who Pete had been with since he was last tested, and he’s realized this is an actual possibility for him. 

Gabe made an appointment at Planned Parenthood, which, to his misfortune, left both his father and Ryland feeling smug. 

He didn’t call Pete. He knew he should, if he had to get tested, Pete _definitely_ should get tested. But Pete’s married. And admitting Pete cheated, that Pete cheated on Ashlee, with him? That’s not okay. He’ll text him later, maybe, depends on the test results. Maybe it wasn’t Pete anyways, maybe it was Bianca (unlikely, he hasn’t seen her for months) or it was one of his shitty one night stands from months ago, though he always makes sure they use condoms, and never bottomed with someone he didn’t know. Couldn’t have the rumors going around the scene that Gabe Saporta was a bitch. 

Fuck Ryland and his monogamy, and his weird love of Suarez’s ass. (Suarez _did_ have a nice ass, but Gabe wasn’t going to admit that). Victoria was never going to let him hear the end of it. 

\- ~ - 

It had been a while since the last time he was in one of these places, long enough for Gabe to forget why he hated it so much. The sterile environment, the glares of judgement in the waiting room. He was bouncing his leg, ADD getting the better of him as he half read his way through a good percentage of the pamphlets on the table. He didn’t actually care about the content as much as letting his eyes skim over the shiny graphs and colors, something to keep himself distracted.

It wasn’t until he stumbled across the sixth pamphlet that he stopped in his tracks. He was halfway through skimming it when an overwhelming sense of dread crept into him. He furrowed his brows, reading over the symptom list again and again. They matched his perfectly, nausea, vomiting, constipation, moodiness, fatigue, chest pains. What the hell even was the pamphlet for again, he’d have to ask the doctor about wh- oh no. Oh fucking no. 

He ran out of the building without even cancelling the appointment, leaving a confused nurse and a little yellow pamphlet with curly lettering on the front reading “What to expect: first month of pregnancy.”

\- ~ -

The first thing he did was he walked into the nearest corner store and bought a pregnancy test. They’re more expensive than he expected, but hey, it’s a life changing thing. He can spare the cash anyway; tell the guys it’s a joke if they ask. The cashier at the counter is a little judgmental, aware of his nerves. “Your girlfriend late or something?” He chuckled, and Gabe’s blood runs cold. Fuck, Bianca. He nodded shakily to the cashier and doesn’t call the taxi right away. 

Instead he walked to a park and sits down to evaluate his options. He had to break up with Bianca- there’s no way he can’t do that. He knew he’s not keeping the baby- if there even is one, he has to remind himself. He didn’t want it. He’d be a horrible father, mother, what fucking ever. He can’t have a kid. He’s literally never wanted a child in his life. Okay, maybe that’s not true. He does love little kids and he does want to be a dad eventually. But not now, and certainly not have it coming out of his own… whatever. 

But Bianca deserved to know. Regardless of the kid, he cheated on her. Multiple times. He knows she’s said, what happens on tour doesn’t matter as long as he comes back to her. But this is different. There are consequences this time. He couldn’t just come back to her. And she deserved to know. 

His hands shook as he pulled out his cell. Fuck, he’d been with her for years and all of it down the drain because he decided to let his boss fuck him. He was a cheater, a dick, but he tried. He tried so hard to make this relationship work. And it’s all for nothing because his body didn’t know how to react. The phone rang four whole times before she picked up. The grogginess in her voice meant she just woke up and _shit_ Gabe didn’t want to do this. “Hey babe.” She cooed and he swallowed the lump in his throat. 

“Hey babe, listen, there’s something we have to talk about.” He heard her go silent for nearly a minute and he almost puked again from the anxiety. 

“What’s up?” She finally asked. 

“I, well, um... I hav-“

“You cheated on me, didn’t you?” Her words fell flat and hit hard. This time he did throw up into the trash can next to the bench. 

“I… uh… yes. Yeah.” His throat was locked up with nerves, he can’t believe he had to do this to her. She’s silent again. 

“If it was on tour, I didn’t care. You know my rule.” It doesn’t matter how much she said she didn’t care, she still sounded extremely hurt. She was hurt, no doubt about that. 

“I know your rule. And it was on tour. But this time… god, Bi, shit happened. Bad shit happened and I can’t walk away clean from this one.”

“Listen, you dick. I don’t care if you’re a fag behind my back with any of your boy toys. But if you gave me fucking HIV I will rock y-“ 

“It’s not HIV babe. And I didn’t give it to you, trust me.” He sighed. “I don’t think we can stay together. Now that we both know.”

“I’ve known for years, idiot.” She cried. She was upset, god this hurts. “Fuck you. You’re a dick, a douche, an asshole. I’d call you son of a bitch, but you’d probably agree with that statement about your mother.”

It’s that that hurts the most because she knows him. She knows he’s a dick, he’s a horrible boyfriend, but he also cried to her the anniversary of when his mom left, she was there when his dad got remarried. Fuck, he let her into his heart and now he fucked it all up. 

She let out a shaky sigh and it brought him out of it. He’s from a disfunctional family, he can drown out people yelling insults like nothing else. “Just promise me one thing. One thing, then we’re split. We don’t have to talk again. I’ll get my stuff from your place and give you the key back and I’ll give you yours. Just tell me... it wasn’t Victoria, was it?”

He laughed. It’s a jerk move but he’s a jerk and the thought of him with _Victoria_ is so outlandish he couldn’t help it. “No Bi. It wasn’t Victoria.” 

“Okay... I don’t know what to say Gabe. I wish we could have worked out.”

He nodded and realized he had started to cry and didn’t even notice. He never wanted this. Why couldn’t he just be damn normal for once. He’s an asshole, but he did- does love her. “I’m so sorry, Bianca.”

“I am too, Gabe. I am too.” And with that she hung up, leaving him feeling sad and empty inside. He was so genuinely distraught that he doesn’t know what to do with himself. He went to a different sketchy store and buys bottle of cheap wine, the last one he can without guilt. He downed it quick, right out the bottle and sits on the bench numb. He didn’t want to feel anything, and he hates himself almost as much as he hates Pete. It’s getting late by the time he was done, so he called the taxi and went upstairs without saying hi to anyone. He fell asleep as soon as he’s back in his room, box of tests still in his pocket. 

\- ~ -

When he woke up the next morning, the full throbbing behind his eyes lets him know that the splitting headache is, in fact, from his hangover. He rolled out of bed, poked in the leg by a cardboard box in his pants. _Fuck_. He forgot about the tests. Well, he had to pee anyway, might as well know just how fucked he was. He sighed, shaking a test out of the packaging. The directions were simple, pee on the swab area, and wait five minutes. He peed on the little stick area of both tests in the package, and waits. He hated waiting, so he paces across he the room. There’s no way in hell its positive, something else is wrong with him. It’s just a crazy coincidence that his rare, easily curable disease has the exact same symptoms as pregnancy. 

After what felt like a century, he looked at the clock which says it’s been four and a half minutes. He couldn’t wait more, though, and instead goes ahead to check the tests. 

Two clear positives. 

He vomited again, because shit, this can’t possibly be happening to him. His life is at a high and shit, and now- well, he was totally getting rid of it. His brain was running a task list of everything he needed to do. He needed to tell Pete. 

No, he didn’t, what was he even thinking? He didn’t think that this is one of those states that needs the dads signature for an abortion. He’ll go to Planned Parenthood again, cause that’s the least likely to be a front for a weird Christian guilt trip and he didn’t think it would be a great idea for a gay, pregnant, _Jew_ to show up to one of their “clinics”. He’d probably be shot in the back alley and left to rot. He shuddered at the idea.

He felt sick, he felt scared, he felt angry. He was fucking pissed at the whole situation while simultaneously shaking with fear. He knew for less than two minutes and it’s already tearing him apart. He needed to tell… someone. Anyone, get it out of his head. 

And so, Gabe stumbled downstairs, wearing yesterday’s clothes. The chatter of normality at the breakfast table made him feel almost nauseous. 

Ryland and Nate were talking, Victoria poking in time to time and vaguely talking to Suarez who was staring at Ryland like he hung the stars in the sky. Ryland smiled at Gabe as he walked in, noticing the worry on his face. “What’s up?”

He said his next sentence as if nothing were wrong, fear barely slipping in through his voice. 

“I think I’m pregnant.” 

Everyone went silent. 

“What does this mean, what does plus mean?” He asked shakily. He already knew what it means but he needs to hear it before he really believed it. 

“Plus means positive, pregnant.” Ryland looked at the little test. Gabe’s heart caught in his throat. “Are you late?”

He meant it as a joke, but it’s not funny and it falls flat amongst the table. They’d never seen Gabe like this. He was pale and shaky and Ryland regrets the joke as Gabe sighed loudly and looked down at the counter. 

“How can it be?” His voice was quiet, so un-Gabe they know it’s serious. Alex took the test and studied it. He didn’t say anything, but set it down. 

Victoria grabbed it next. “This is a pretty legit brand, Gabe. Who’s the lucky man?” 

“No one, okay-“

“Well, it’s obviously not no one.” Nate laughed nervously. “Come on, bro, we all know who it is.”

“Shut the fuck up, guys-“

“What, you’re acting as if we were oblivious. We know what happened.”

“Guys, stop.” Suarez said firmly. It startles them all, especially Gabe. He placed his hand on Gabe’s shaking one and rubbed it softly. “Go call Pete.”

Gabe nodded tightly, fighting back tears as he left the room in silence. 

\- ~ -

He locked himself in his room for two days. He was starving, but he told himself he would have thrown it up anyways. 

He never called Pete. 

In fact, the closest he got to outside interaction was yesterday afternoon when he tried to call his father. Ilana answered instead, which was fine. She was sweet, and genuinely cared about him in a way unlike his real mom did, but he didn’t want his dad to find out through her. He exchanged pleasantries, told her to tell his step siblings hi for him, and promised to call back. He didn’t call back. 

Instead he lie on his bed and let himself waste away. He cried some of it, spiting up in the bed side trash can other times. He slept for most of it. He was finally awake, at three in the afternoon, two days later in the unbearable summer of 2008. 

It was hot, the economy has crashed, and he’s pregnant with his married boss’s child. He was thinking maybe it wouldn’t be that bad of an idea if he just rotted away right then and there when he heard a knock on the door. 

“Leave me the fuck alone.” He called out, voice hoarse and dry.

“Gabe, it’s just Suarez. Open up.” A light voice called from outside the door. Gabe groaned. He didn’t want to talk to anyone, but it’s Suarez so he probably brought food, and he’s pretty damn hungry. He got up and unlocked the dead bolt, letting Alex into the room. As expected, he had food with him. 

“Paella. Vegetarian for us non-sociopaths.” He grinned, and Gabe snorted a laugh. 

“Thanks, Suarez, really.” He made to close the door, but Alex butted in. 

“I brought a plate for myself, idiot. You look like hell, I’m not leaving you alone, god, what is that smell.” He retched. 

“Vomit.”

“You’re disgusting, Gabanti.” Alex walked into the bathroom and emptied the contents of the trash can into the toilet, flushed, and grabbed the disinfectant, all while plugging his nose. After washing the trash can and his hands several dozen times, he came out of the bathroom, hand on his hip. “I’m guessing the phone call went bad.”

“Didn’t make it.”

“You didn’t call him?” Alex raised his eyebrows. “What the hell happened to the reckless dipshit I used to know?”

Gabe looked up from where he sat cross legged on the bed. “He’s dead, Suareazy, dead.” Alex picked up the plates and sits down across from him. He handed him the plate. 

“You’re not dead yet. Just pregnant.” Gabe winced. 

“God, don’t even say that.” Alex sighed. 

“Why not?” 

“Because!” Gabe cried out. “I’m a dude! This isn’t supposed to be possible!”

“Well, it is.” He said quietly. 

“What are you even talking about Suarez?”

“What do you think I’m talking about? I’m just saying it’s genuinely not impossible. It’s actually possible for a decent number of guys.”

“Why the hell do you know so much about this?”

Alex sighed. “Are you serious Gabe. Do I straight up have to tell you?” Gabe blinked at him like a deer in headlights and he sighed again. “I’m in the same boat as you, dude. I mean, I’m not pregnant, but I could be, I guess.”

“What the hell? How long have you kno-“

“Since high school dude. It’s fucking weird. Apparently it’s genetic, no reasoning behind it. No cool tragic back story with radioactivity. It’s actually crazy rare I ever met another one who knew. Most dudes are oblivious, they’re either straight or they top all the time.” He talked about it casually, as though this wasn’t crazy life changing information. He went on for a bit longer, eating while he’s talking, while Gabe just watched, shell shocked. 

“Wait... so what you’re telling me is that it’s actually a fucking thing that I’m pregnant, and _not_ just a fluke?” He asked hesitantly, unsure of what he wants to hear. If it’s a fluke, he’ll laugh about it, maybe even apologize to Bianca. If it’s not… he doesn’t know what he’ll do yet.

“It’s probably not, sorry. Or congrats, whatever’s appropriate.” Alex shrugged. 

Gabe nodded tightly, throat clenched up. Alex sighed, setting aside his plate and reaching out to rub Gabe’s arm soothingly. Gabe sniffled and let out a sob. He collapsed on the bed, curling into his days old hoodie. Suarez watched him cry, not saying anything, but rubbing his shoulder. Gabe would never admit how nice it was that someone was there for his breakdown, but only for the sake of not admitting he had a breakdown. 

After almost an hour of sobbing and shaking, he looked up at Alex, eyes red and puffy, and takes a deep breath. “What am I going to do, Suareazy?”

“I don’t know, Gabanti, it’s up to you.” He sighed. 

“What would you do if you were me?” 

“If I were you, or if I was myself but in your situation?”

“My situation, dumbass.” He smiled weakly, and swatted his friend on the knee. Suarez sighed, and thinks about it longer than he should, in Gabe’s opinion. 

“If I was in your situation…” he sighed carefully. “I gotta be honest Saporta. I think I’d keep it. I’ve wanted a baby so bad-“

“Holy shit, you want a kid?” That was batshit crazy in Gabe’s mind; it’s nothing he’d expect from any one of his friends, especially not in his band. Alex blushed. 

“I mean, yeah, maybe. I like kids, I’m good with them. The thing is, Ryland doesn’t want biological kids cause of his scoliosis, which he says is genetic, but I don’t mind. We could adopt if we really want them later.” 

Gabe looked up at him, confused and maybe a little guilty. He wasn’t even thinking about it as a kid, just some huge inconvenience. When he thought about it like that, it’s really not the end of the world. He did like kids. He always subconsciously wanted to be a dad, settling down just never seemed his style. Not the cobra way, he supposed. But he couldn’t do it now, regardless of if he wants it or not, not with Pete. 

Alex had been talking while he zoned out in his own hell hole of self-pity. “You okay Saporta?” 

Gabe shook his head, and curled up again. “Alex… what am I supposed to do?”

“Call Pete. You have to, dude.”

“No I don’t-“

“It’s not for legality, it’s for common courtesy. He shouldn’t just get away easy while you’re tearing yourself apart. Did you call Bianca?” 

“Yeah.” Suarez looked surprised. “What! I’m not totally irresponsible. We broke up before I even took the test.” 

“How’d you even think about taking the test if you didn’t know it was possible.”

“Pamphlet. The symptoms matched. Just for shits and giggles I guess.”

Alex sighed. “Call Wentz. If not for yourself, then for Ashlee. She doesn’t deserve it.”

He sighed. “I guess. They’ve only been married for a few months, they’re expecting a kid of their own. God, I hate to do this to them.”

“Then he shouldn’t have fucking cheated.”

“Well it wouldn’t have mattered if I-“

“Yes it fucking would have! Even if you didn’t get knocked up, he still cheated on Ashlee, and you both know it.” Alex shook his head. “I’m being a bit too callous”

“A bit?” Gabe laughs dryly. 

“Not by my own standards, but maybe by yours, I guess. You did some shitty stuff, but I know you and Bianca had a compromise about when she’s not around, and it’s not like it’s all your fault. I’ll cut you a deal, if you promise you’ll call, I’ll take the plates and leave you alone.”

He nodded, watching him leave. “Alex?”

Suarez turned around. “Yeah?”

“You know I’m getting rid of it, right?” Alex smiled, with understanding. 

“I know, Gabe. I don’t blame you. Just cause it’s not what I would do, doesn’t mean it’s not the right thing for you.” 

Gabe nodded, and flopped back on the bed as he heard the door click shut. Well fuck. This wasn’t going to be fun. 

\- ~ -

He managed to procrastinate calling Pete even more, but only by doing what really had to be done. He showered, changed clothes, did everything he neglected to do the past two days. By the time he got out of the shower, it was 6:00 at night, and he knew he should call Pete’s cell instead of the home phone.

He sat down on the side of the bed and took a deep breath. He dialed Pete’s number and waited for him to pick up. Fuck, he should have gone to a doctor first, have actual evidence. This was a bad idea-

“Hello?” A soft feminine voice said through the phone speakers. 

“Um… hey, is this Pete Wentz’s number?” He asked sheepishly, fuck, he called his cell, right?

“Oh,” the voice giggled, “this is Ashlee. Pete’s in the shower, do you want me to take a message?”

“Oh, um, no. Just tell him Gabe called and he needs you to call him back, can you do that?” 

“Of course I can. Gabe, right? Pete talks about you all the time- I think we met a few times.” Gabe gulped. 

“Yeah, once or twice. Great talking to you again, tell Pete to call me.” He hung up harshly. He was rude and he knows it. He wished he cared less than he did, because he feels bad for being mean to her but they’re basically fighting over the same part in Pete’s life. And one of them is going to get screwed over, seriously. He knew it was going to be him, but that didn’t mean he couldn’t show his disdain. 

When Pete called back an hour later, he’s pissed. “Gabe, what the hell? Ashlee said you called, and basically hung up on her-“

“I’m pregnant, Wentz.”

There was a whole minute of silence, before Pete started to laugh. But it’s a dry laugh, and it’s clear from the tone he was still pissed off. “Very funny, Saporta.”

“I’m not laughing, am I?” There’s another uncomfortable silence. 

“What- what do you mean?” Pete laughed again, but this was different. It was a nervous laugh, one full of dread.

“I mean what I said, asshole. I’m knocked up. It’s yours.”

Pete sighed over the phone and Gabe can’t help but feel guilty. He didn’t want to be here anymore than Pete. “You’re sure, Saporta?”

“Pretty damn sure.” He snapped, and waited for Pete’s response. 

“How much?”

“How much?” Gabe raised his eyebrow. “How much for what?”

“How much do you need to pay for the abortion? You obviously can’t keep it, so what do you need?” 

Gabe was shocked. Then the shock turned to infuriation. “What do you mean I _can’t_ keep it?”

“I mean, we can’t have our scandal going around, clearly. That would look bad for both of us-“

“It would look worse for you.” 

“It would hurt you too, Saporta, fucking your boss isn’t exactly professional, is it?”

“Neither is cheating on your pregnant wife with an employee, but here we are.”

Pete goes silent again. “Gabe…”

“What do you want me to say, Pete? We both fucked up. This is your mistake just as much as mine.”

“Yeah, but you’re getting rid of it, right?”

“Pete, you can’t just will away your fucking mistakes like this! You can’t just pay me to get rid of a problem that you don’t want to fucking deal with! The first fucking thing you ask me is how much money I need from you, what the hell?”

Pete sighed. “Dude, you don’t understand, neither of us can handle this. We fucked up, but-“

Gabe was infuriated. He had a breakdown, he broke up with his girlfriend, admited he did wrong, took the fucking responsibility, and now Pete just expected him to pretend it never happened so he doesn’t have to own up to it and that money will solve all his problems. He was so mad he couldn’t think straight. “Is this how you treated Ashlee when she told you she was pregnant?”

Pete was quiet again. Gabe knew he pissed him off. He knew he shouldn’t have said it, it was too mean. But he was so aggravated by Pete’s immaturity. “You’re a fucking dick, Saporta, don’t pretend you didn’t have a girlfriend of your own to cheat on.”

“I broke up with Bianca before I even took the test. I told her the whole story, that I cheated and there’s no excuse.” 

Pete didn’t expect that. Pete assumed Bianca was just as clueless as Ashlee. The fact that Gabe took any shred of responsibility made everything 100% more real. 

“So… you’re actually pregnant?”

Gabe groaned. “Yes, Pete. Surprise, surprise.”

“Do you know how far along you are?” 

“No.”

“I mean, from when we last fucked, you have to be at least two months. You’ve got to act soon if you plan on getting rid of it.”

“Why do you assume I’m just going to get rid of it?”

“Well, you are, aren’t you?” 

“What if I wasn’t?” Gabe said matter of factly, biting his lip. He didn’t want the baby, at least, he didn’t think he did. But abortion was a shitty thing to go through, and he wasn’t just going to let Pete think he could boss him around like that. He felt a surge of protectiveness, so strong it scared him. He wasn’t just going to get rid of this because Pete wasn’t willing to own up to his actions, that was for sure. 

“But you are.”

“Can we at least fucking talk about this?” Gabe yelled, exasperated. 

“What is there to talk about?”

“Pete-“

“Gabe, you’re my best friend of many, many years. But you’d be a horrible parent. We both know that.” Pete said, only a little condescendingly. Gabe nodded with tight lips, wiping a tear he didn’t know was falling. “And I’m already having a kid with Ashlee. What type of shit would I get for having two kids only a few months apart?”

“The shit you deserve.” Gabe spat out, feeling himself get choked up, and hung up the phone. 

He was crying. He had no idea when it started, but it certainly felt like it wasn’t stopping for a while. He leaned back on the bed and sobbed. He was a dick to Pete, or Pete was a dick to him, or whatever. They were both assholes, but he’s pregnant, he gets to be moody and irrational. Pete had pretty much fucked up his life at the moment and he didn’t know how to fix it. Well, he did. 

He knew very well how to fix it. 

He started to cry harder, for reasons unbeknownst to himself. For the first time in a while, he thought about god, about life and those lessons he was taught in Hebrew school. That was at least 10 years ago. He felt so old, but too young for this. Too young to be a parent. God, he didn’t like to think about that. He gently placed a hand on his stomach, which hadn’t changed at all. 

It wasn’t that he didn’t like kids. He loved kids, he had experience being uncle to his brother’s and his step sibling’s kids. He knew he financially he could support a child, give it a good life. 

But Pete was right. He’d be an awful parent. He was an alcoholic, he drank so much he probably fucked the kid up already. He either repressed his depression to the point where he was close to breakdown, or let his ADHD control him. He was the scene slut, and he never shied away from the title and everyone knew it. 

He was reckless, dumb, and damn. He should have used a condom. 

\- ~ -

Gabe woke up at two in the morning, still exhausted. He stumbled downstairs to get something to eat, water in the least. What he didn’t expect was Ryland sitting at the barstools, reading his book. 

“Ry? What are you doing awake?” He raised an eyebrow. 

“I could ask the same of you. How are you doing, by the way?”

“Not great, dude. Pretty shitty, actually.” Ryland chuckled. 

“Can’t say I’d want to be in your place, dude.” Gabe couldn’t help but crack a smile. 

“Tell that to your boyfriend.”

“We’re not tog-“

“Cut the bullshit, Suarez told me the whole deal when we were drunk last month. Surprised he didn’t mention the baby fever then, too.”

“I wouldn’t exactly call it baby fever. He just wants a kid. Eventually. So in ten years we’ll adopt one or some shit.” Ryland shrugged. Gabe raised an eyebrow, smirk on his face, but Ryland remained stoic. He sighed, losing the pretentious smirk. 

“I’m guessing he filled you in on the whole deal?”

“Nate and I might have been listening outside the door.” 

“Asshole.”

Ryland crossed his arms, not even trying to deny it. “Did you call Pete?”

“What, you weren’t outside the door for that one?”

“Cmon, dude, you know Nate’s bedtime is like, 7:30.” He teased, and Gabe laughed. It felt good to laugh. “Actually, he’s probably still up playing Call Of Duty, so if you want to tell him I ratted us out, be my guest.”

“Maybe later.” He sighed, leaning against the counter and putting his head in his hands. Ryland rubbed his shoulder, guiding him so he was also sitting down at the counter.

“Gabe…”

“Pete wants me to get rid of it.” It’s harder on him to say it than he expected. Ryland rubbed his back soothingly. 

“I thought that’s what you wanted?” 

“It was…”

“And it’s not anymore?”

Gabe sighed heavily. “I know what I should do. I know what Pete wants me to do. I know what the label wants, I know what my family would tell me-“

“But what do you _want_?”

“Right now I want Pete to own up to his mistakes and grow a pair. I don’t want him to get away with thinking money could fix everything.”

“A baby shouldn’t be revenge, Gabe. You should have a kid because you like kids, and when you’re at a point in your life where you can sort of put everything on hold.”

“I know that!”

“You shouldn’t just do it so Pete pulls his head out of his ass! If you want the kid, you want the kid, but don’t have it so you can get back at someone you might not speak to again.”

“We’re going to talk to our boss agai-“

“Not my point. If you do it to get revenge, the only person you’re hurting is yourself. It’ll backfire, and you’ll be stuck raising a kid as a single parent.”

Gabe sighed. “I know… it’s just bullshit! He knocks up Ashlee and they get married to be the perfect family, and he fucking cheats on her and won’t own up to it. Like, if this happened last year would he still act like a dick, or would I be in Ashlee’s place?”

“I don’t know.”

“He didn’t even call me a freak! It sounded like we’d done it before and this was my third or fourth time groveling for abortion money.” 

“I don’t even know what I could tell you, Gabe.” Ryland sighed, standing up. “Tell him in person, that’s a good first step. And think about it, are you actually ready to be a parent?”

He nodded into his hands and thought about what everyone else had told him. He swallowed hard, feeling his throat choke him out. “Would I be a bad parent?”

Ryland sighed. “Gabe, you’re a reckless idiot who doesn’t always make the best choices. You’re from a broken home, you’ve got crazy mommy issues, and you bottle up your anxiety and depression like no body’s business.” He watches as Gabe nodded thoughtfully, eyes red and wet. He squeezed his hand softly.“But when push comes to shove, you’re incredibly determined, you’ve got a big heart, with lots of love, and you really know the value of sacrifice. I’m not saying you’d win father of the year. But if you put your heart into it, I don’t think you could be a bad parent.” 

Gabe sniffled a little. “Thanks, Ryland. You’re going to be a good dad too. When the time comes.”

“If the time comes.”

“Talk to Suarez about that.”

“He’s not pregnant, is he?” Ryland’s face was somewhere in between shock, horror, and excitement that was so comical that Gabe couldn’t help but chuckle. 

“No. But if he was, he’d keep it.” Ryland looked visibly relieved. 

“Gabe, no offense, but now is not a great time in our lives to drop everything and settle down. And I love Alex, but we can’t do that now, we’re releasing the new Ivy League stuff and, well, it wouldn’t be easy to have a kid now. I’m not saying it’s impossible, but it’s hard work having a kid.”

“I fucking know that.” He sighed. “What should I do?”

“See a doctor. A gynecologist, or whatever, Suarez could probably tell you the guy equivalent. Talk to Pete in person, show him an ultrasound, make sure he knows any decision made is yours, and not his.” Gabe nodded. 

“Thank you, Ryland. Thank you.”

Ryland smiled, and headed back to the room claimed by Alex and himself. “Get some sleep, Gabanti. You need it.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Wow not sure if I like how this is going but I guess it is going!!!!!!
> 
> please give feedback even negative feedback is appreciate

“Ten weeks.”

Gabe swallowed hard, anxiety coursing through his body as the ultrasound technician moved the wand above his hips. “Ten weeks? What does that even mean?”

“You’ve been pregnant for ten weeks. You may have only found out a week ago, but you’re already two and a half months pregnant! Do you want to hear the heart beat?”

He gulped, eyes glued to the pixelated picture in the screen. “No, thank you.” He stuttered out.

“Would you like a picture of the ultrasound?”

He actually thought about this one for a few seconds. “Sure.” She nodded, typing something into her keyboard and turning off the machine. She turned around to look at him, handing him some paper towel to wipe the gel off his stomach.

“Have you spoken to the father at all?”

“Once. He wants me to get rid of it.”

“Do you want to have an abortion?”

“I’m not sure.” He said honestly. The doctor pursed her lips and looked back at the charts.

“Well, if you hoped to, you would have to decide within a week. Anything past 11 weeks gets shady legality wise, and anything past 12 weeks is illegal.”

“And what would happen if I didn’t get rid of it?” He was shaky, bouncing his leg with restlessness and anxiety.

“Well, you’d need to take supplements, and vitamins for sure. You’re vegan, right?”

“Strict vegetarian. And kosher.” He didn’t know why he threw that in, he knew it wouldn’t tell her anything she didn’t know, since he already didn’t eat meat and tried not to eat dairy. But it felt important for the split second, and he didn’t regret it.

“Then calcium supplements are a must, same with iron and a few others. Do you take medicine for your ADHD?” He shook his head and she nodded. “Quit drinking, no smoking, yes, this includes weed. In fact, try to stay away from people smoking if at all possible.”

That was going to be harder than anything else, everyone in the band smoked a little. Alex and Ryland were more recreational, doing it a few times a month to fit their pretentious indie music vibe, but Victoria smoked a pack a day like her life depended on it. He got that his life would have to change drastically, but could he ask that if the other people around him?

“If I keep it, when will I start, you know- getting fat?” It’s a selfish question, but an important one for him. Gabe’s a confident guy, but he’s worked hard to stay confident. He’s got more insecurities than he would like to admit, and he knows if he does this it’s inevitable to encounter at least a few of those. The doctor laughed.

“That really should be the least of your concerns. But based on your body type, the location of your uterus, and your eating habits, I’d guess you have maybe a bit longer than the average woman. You might not start showing until the sixth month if you’re lucky. Or I’m wrong and you could start showing in a week. Just remember, it’s harmful for both the mother and the baby if you try to hide it.” He nodded, a little embarrassed. “I’m guessing from your accent you’re east coast?”

He nodded.

“New York, or Boston?”

“Queens, then Jersey- Springfield.”

She nodded. “How’d you end up upstate?”

“We’re doing a reality show for MTV. Long story.” The doctor sighed, looking down at her charts.

“And where’s the father?”

“Manhattan. Sometimes Chicago or LA. He’s my boss.” She looked down at the forms disapprovingly and Gabe felt a pang of embarrassment.

“And you’re 28 years old?”

“29 in October.” He choked out. His throat felt tight with anxiety and he just wanted to leave this woman and her judgmental stares.

“Well, you’re not exactly young, then-“

“What do you mean, not exactly young? I’m still in my 20s?”

“Well, for most mothers”- Gabe winced slightly at the use of the word- “it gets harder to have a baby after 25, even harder after 30.” He was confused because he felt remarkably young, why was this lady telling him he was past his prime for something he shouldn’t care about. “So if you get rid of it, be warned, it will be much harder to conceive a second time.”

“And what about virility? Could I still have kids with a girl if I wanted?”

“Possibly. Possibly not. You might have to do in vitro. And even that may not work.” He nodded shakily.

“So, potentially, this could be one of my only chances to have a kid.” He said slowly, talking himself through it. The doctor nodded, handing him the final report and the ultrasound picture.

“It’s still your choice. But you need to know the whole picture before you make a decision.” The way she said it sounded genuine, and he’s thankful for it.

“Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.” She nodded, leading him back out of the exam rooms.

\- ~ -

He didn’t go back to the house right away. He needed time to think so he went back to the park where he broke up with Bianca and sat down. From Pete’s twitter, he could imply he’s in NYC, which means it’s not that far if he wanted to see him in person. He only had ten bucks cash and his credit card on him, his cell is half charged, and only one of his earbuds work on his iPod. He searched his pockets, and pulled out the ultrasound. Gabe stared at it for a whole five minutes, tracing over the little dark blob gently with his fingers. The only thing that compelled him to stop was the tear that fell from his cheek to the paper, leaving a splotch. Fuck, what was he supposed to do?

He let himself cry for a little bit, receiving odd looks from passing children and concerned adults. After a while, he walked back into town and bought a new pair of headphones and a bus ticket to Manhattan for later that day. He didn’t have to, but he wanted to talk to Pete again, and he can’t hang up in person. He selfishly hoped to put them both in their place, maybe they’d both admit they were wrong and everything would work out happily ever after. He _knew_ that was not going to happen. Pete was going tell him to go get to rid of the baby, he’d go to a clinic downtown, and recover for a few days by visit his father without telling him why.

A few hours later, he climbed aboard a bus to the city. The other people on the bus stared, but he chalked it up to his height, his accent, and his fashion sense. He put in his earbuds first thing after grabbing a window seat, and simply texted Nate ‘visiting Pete. Not coming home 2nite.’

He sighed, returning to the ultrasound. He traced the weak baby-like blob. “I don’t know what to do.” He whispered quietly, looking down at his toned abs and his sharp hips. He ran his hand over it softly. He almost wished something was there, something to show Pete ‘it’s not a fuck up! it’s our baby!’ But his stomach was still rigid, and his eyes were watery and he was confused by his own emotions. He didn’t want to be a dad now, he wanted (albeit, selfishly) to keep slutting around, dating whoever, whenever, living on the road. He wasn’t ready for this baby, not now, and not while Pete was still married to Ashlee, but the last thing he wanted to do was get rid of it. It could be the only child he could ever have, he wasn’t just going to throw it away without a second thought. He did want kids in the future. He liked them. His nieces and nephews weren’t too much of a pain, according to his step siblings and his brother.

But he didn’t want one like this. Not with the father married to a different woman. And not… well, not _in_ him. Not to mention his own family issues, alcoholism, the like.

He had a week to make a life changing decision, one he never should have had to. He just wanted to wake up and have this be one long, terrifying dream. He put his headphones in and fell asleep to Paul’s Boutique, letting the sounds of New York call him home.

\- ~ -

It was already dark by the time they got to the city, well, as dark as the city got. It was sticky, and humid, and a week upstate sure helped Gabe forget the potent stench of garbage and urine associated with Manhattan. The first thing he did was catch another bus out of this side of Manhattan, one that would take him away from all the tourists and the glamour, and into the city called home. He pulled up Pete’s address from his almost dead phone, realizing he was going to have to show up unannounced. He boarded another bus, and prayed Pete was home by the time he walked up the stairs to his apartment.

Gabe checked his watch. It was only 11:00, even if Pete were in New York this weekend, he’d probably be out partying. By the time he got off the bus, it was 11:30 and the people in the bars were starting to crawl back home or to the clubs. He walked quickly, hands floating over his stomach in his pockets. He tried not to think of the _baby_ in there, despite the fact that it was the whole reason he was even in the city. He knew better than to let himself get attached to it emotionally, it was just a clump of cells that was a mistake and should be regarded as such, despite whether he wanted it or not. When he got to Pete’s apartment the receptionist looked him up and down.

“One of Wentz’s party boy friends?” She raised an eyebrow and Gabe blushed furiously.

“Uh, yeah, actually. Is he in?”

“Gimme your name and I’ll buzz you up.”

“Gabe. He’ll know it’s me.”

She leaned into the phone. “Wentz, you have a visitor. Goes by Gabe. Let him up, or kick him out?” Gabe holds his breath for a whole 30 seconds, while the receptionist smirks a little, nodding. “Head on up, party boy. Apartment 718. Just a warning, someone doesn’t sound so happy to see you.” He nodded, biting his lip, and headed towards the elevator. He shoved his hands back in his pocket after pressing the seventh floor button. He didn’t think about it as his hands brushed across his flat stomach and he certainly didn’t think about it as he ran his thumb over the ultrasound paper, folded up in the pocket. The elevator door opened and he walked out into the hallway. It’s a really nice apartment building, unlike the one he grew up in. Then again, a lot was better than where he grew up. The floors were clean, and his shoes squeaked while he walked. He waited nearly a minute outside Pete’s door, before knocking carefully.

“One second,” someone called from inside the door, and Gabe held his breath as he heard a lock unlatch and watched the door swing open. A woman stood inside. She was pale, with dark auburn hair that stretched down her back, and a night shirt that showed off her baby bump. She was smiling slightly, and Gabe was instantly put off at the stark contrast between them. He looked back down, suddenly aware and uneasy of the fact that he was over a foot taller than her. He coughed a little, forcing his voice out. “You must be Ashlee.”

She nodded, grinning. “We met before, Pete’s party.” He shook her hand, her soft hand against his clammy, shaky, rough skin. He regretted showing up the second their hands met and he pulled away quick.

“Is Pete here right now?” He rubbed his arm nervously. She sighed, smiling sadly.

“Listen… I know you and Pete have something special- he talks about you all the time. I mean, he doesn’t tell me much, but from what he tells me, you’re close. A friend of his is a friend of mine.”

Gabe swallowed hard. “That... that means a lot Ashlee.” He forced himself to smile.

“Seriously. He’s thrilled to have our little one meet his Uncle Gabe.” She laughed a little, cupping a hand over her bump. Gabe blushed, biting his lip.

“Yeah… can I speak to him? It’s kinda important.” He sighed.

“Sure.” She sighed as well. “He’s in our room.”

He blushed, walking into Pete’s apartment. It’s nice, and he felt out of place. Bright red jeans and a fucking fedora with an ugly scarf didn’t fit in with Pete’s classy living room and polished, clean decor. He’d been to Pete’s apartment before, but never had it looked so neat. He felt like he was stepping away from the Pete he knew, into the home of a different Pete, a manager, a classy musician, a family man.

He didn’t knock before entering the bedroom. This time, it was exactly what he expected. The bed in the middle, TV on the dresser across from it, Hemingway’s bed on the floor. Gabe made a mental note, if he did settle down, he was getting a dog. A rescue, definitely. Maybe a cat too.

Pete sat on the bed, only a singular light on. He looked different. It wasn’t as though Gabe had never seen him shirtless in his pajama bottoms before- he’d seen him in less than that, clearly- but his hair was natural and he had his glasses on. Gabe’s heart caught in his throat as Pete looked up at the sound of the door opening fully.

“Gabe.” It wasn’t a question.

“Surprise, Wentz. You miss me?” He forced a laugh, but his throat was already choked up. Pete nodded, wide eyed.

“What are you doing here, Gabanti?” He said it as a question, but it came out like a demand. He patted the bed for Gabe to sit down. Gabe walked over and sat down. As much as he’d hate to admit it, his hips were killing him. He would say his hips shouldn’t have been hurting him this much, this early, but he had masculine hips, and he wasfurther along than he though.

“I think you remember, we never finished our conversation.”

“You hung up on me, Saporta.”

“Well, you were being a dick, alright? You very much deserved that. We both know it.”

“Gabe-“

“What do you have to say for yourself, Pete?”

“Listen, I know I was a dick, but we all said shit we didn’t mean okay? Comparing yourself to Ashlee wasn’t cool in that way, you know it.”

Gabe sighed, because for once, Pete’s right. “Okay. I know. I fucked up. But we both fucked up. This is your mistake just as much as mine. And you definitely don’t just get to pay to make it go away.”

Pete also sighed, cause Gabe’s also right. “Have you gotten rid of it yet?”

He shook his head.

“Are you going to?”

Gabe shrugged. “If I do, it’s got to be soon.”

“How soon?” Asked Pete. “Like, within a month soon?”

“Like, within six days, soon.” Gabe sighed.

Pete’s jaw physically dropped. “You’re not fucking serious...” he bit his lip, dreading the next question. “How far along are you?”

“10 weeks. Two and a half months.”

Pete let out a low whistle. “Wow. When are you due?”

“Late February. 26th or 27th.”

“It’s August, Gabanti. That’s over six months from now.”

“I fucking know, dumbass. Baby making takes a long ass time.”

Pete sighed, placing his head in his hands. “How are you going to hide it?”

“Well… the doctor said due to some shit I might not get fat until I’m six months. So that’ll help. We’ll be done with the MTV show by then, we can go work on our new album. Become recluses, have the baby, then bam. I had an affair with a girl who didn’t want it and I’m dad of the year.” He shrugged, a bit of nervous laughter creeping in his tone.

“Gabe, people are going to suspect shit. Even if you don’t show until later, you’re still going to be pregnant. You can’t drink, you can’t smoke, you can’t hook up with random people as you please. People are going to be confused to why you aren’t doing that anymore. Nothing can stay secret forever.”

“Unless I get rid of it?” There was a tone of bitter frustration in his voice.

“I mean, yeah.” Pete was oblivious to this indignation.

Gabe sighed, looking down. Some mischievous, cruel part of him took over, and he tossed Pete the ultrasound picture.

“What’s this?” Pete asked warily, holding the piece of paper as if it had been dredged through the sewers.

“Take a look for yourself, Wentz.” He snapped.

Pete opened it cautiously, eyes furrowing in confusion, then lighting with understanding. “You weren’t kidding.”

“No shit.” He barked a dry laugh. “Congrats Wentz. Daddy of two.”

Pete’s hand traced over the ultrasound, fingers stopping at the blob considered a baby. “This… This is real?” He looked up at Gabe, crying. Gabe nodded, tears in his own eyes.

“Pete-“

“I won’t make you get rid of it, Gabey. I can’t do that to you. I mean, you’re almost at the point where it’s illegal to get rid of it.”

“That’s not a good reason to keep it.”

“I know that, bitch.”

“Then fucking act like it! Okay?”

Pete sighed. “You suck, Gabe.”

“Hey, I didn’t know this was possible, you think I wanted this?”

Pete went silent and put his head in his hands. “Two and a half months ago… we’ve fucked more recently than that, haven’t we? We last saw each other almost exactly two months ago.” Gabe bit his lip, nodding.

“That’s just what the doctor said.”

“So you were already knocked up when we last…”

Gabe nodded and went to speak, before he was cut off.

“Not necessarily.” A broken voice said from the door way.

“Ash…” Pete looked to the door, pale and mortified.

“Save it, Peter. I heard everything.” She sighed, sitting down on the armchair, looking at the two men. “And two and a half months pregnant, doesn’t mean you’ve been pregnant for two and a half months. They count the first week of pregnancy starting the day after your period ends. So you may only have actually been pregnant for two months flat.” She said it sharply, glaring at her husband. Gabe flushed bright red, clearly aware of the distress he caused.

“Ashlee, I’m sorry, I can leave right now, it’s not what it-“

“Mr.Saporta, I heard the whole damn thing.” She sounded broken, and had every right to be so. “Please leave.” He nodded and grabbed the ultrasound picture from Pete’s limp, shaky hands.

“I’m getting rid of it, Ashlee. Just so you know.” Gabe called it out shakily, as he closed Pete’s apartment door. He made up his mind then and there. He couldn’t do that to Pete- no, Pete deserved whatever shit Ashlee was going to kick into him. But he didn’t deserve it.

She nodded tightly as he left the apartment and walked the walk of shame out to the street. He didn’t know what else to do, so he caught a bus to Queens and walked the once familiar street. He could go back to his own apartment, but the last thing he possibly wanted was to be alone then. Travie was in LA that week, and he didn’t know anyone else who would let him crash sober. He spent the last of his change on a scarf from a street vendor, despite the fact that it was summer and he was already wearing a jacket. He knew the taxis took credit, and it was a ritual of his. He said thank you to the vendor in Spanish and tried not to think about what a fantastic baby blanket the soft fabric of the scarf would make.

It’s then he decided that he knew where he had to go, so he hailed a taxi to take him back to his father’s house. He made the driver pull over so he could vomit at least twice in the first ten minutes (not that the driver hadn’t seen worse) and tried to keep his eyes open as they wind through the Bronx, over the bridge and across the New York/New Jersey state line, the lights of the city fading in the distance as the bustle of the streets turned to an hour of New Jersey’s finest suburbia. He paid the cabbie, tipped him well, and walked up the street to his father’s home.

He realized as he rang the doorbell that he should have just gotten a hotel from the night, that he shouldn’t be bothering his dad and step mother like this, when the door swung open. “Gabriel?”

“Hola Papá. Long time, no see?” He shrugged as he was pulled into a hug. Diego didn’t know much about the situation, but his son asked him for medical advice a few weeks ago, and to have him here on his doorstep was not a good sign.

“Come in, Gabriel, come in,” he ushered his son into the house. “Do you need anything to eat, drink?”

Gabe shook his head. “No, Papi, I’m fine.” Diego led him to the couch, forcing him to sit down, doctor mode taking over.

“Gabriel, if everything was fine, you wouldn’t be here, what’s wrong?” He sighed.

“You’re not going to believe me.”

“Mijo, why would I doubt you?”

“Cause it’s ridiculous. And impossible. And…”

“Gabriel…” he placed a steady hand on Gabe’s shaking leg. “Dime la verdad.”

“I’m pregnant.” He blurted out.

“What?” Diego paled, looking his son up and down.

“I told you, you wouldn’t believe me.” Gabe sighed, handing him the ultrasound photo, wrinkled from being in his pockets. He bit his lip as his father looked at the image intently.

“Gabriel… congratulations.” He smiled as best as he could, given the circumstance.

“Papi… I’m getting rid of it.” Gabe felt his heart sink as he said it, but didn’t take it back.

“Why?”

Gabe sighed. “It’s a lot of commitment, and the father-“

“Gabriel, why should you care what the father wants, it’s your child, he doesn’t have to be involved.”

“Papi. The father is married to a woman who he’s also having a baby with. He’s… the father is also my boss.” Diego gasped like in one of the telenovelas Ilana kept on tape.

“Oh, oh mijo.” He turned off the doctor part of his brain as he walked over and hugged his son. Gabe started to sob, overwhelmed and exhausted.

“Papi, I…This could be the only kid I could have. If I get rid of it, I might not be able to have anymore.”

“Not even with a woman?”

Gabe shook his head, whimpering, softly. “No. Papi, I don’t want a kid now, but I want kids... I want to be a dad, not like this, but I want a kid. Sometime.”

Diego nodded, holding his son. “What do you want me to tell you, mijo?”

He shrugged. “I don’t know. I know I can’t keep it…”

“Why not?”

“Because it’ll ruin my reputation. It will destroy Pete. It will ruin his relationship with his wife. It already has.” He sobbed.

“Is Pete the father?”

“Yeah.” Gabe sniffled.

Diego huffed. “El hijo de perra.” He hissed angrily.

“Papi, don’t say that!” Gabe pleaded.

“Why not?”

“Because!” He protested.

“Gabe… if _Pete_ wanted the baby, would you keep it?”

“If Pete wanted the baby too, I wouldn’t have to worry about losing my job for keeping it.”

“But would you?”

He thought about it for almost a minute, eyes not meeting his father’s. Finally, he nodded. “I think so.”

“Then why are you getting rid of it?”

“Because it’ll cause too many problems!” Diego slapped him across the face. It stung and Gabe immediately recoiled, holding his tender cheek.

“Gabriel Eduardo Saporta, do you know how much your mother and I had to sacrifice for you and your brother? I gave up my career to sell clothes on the street so my sons could grow up in America. So my boys wouldn’t have to deal with the corruption back in Uruguay, with the antisemitism, with the poverty. Do you think that was easy? Hell no. But I did it because you were more important. You were worth the risk of deportation, you were worth being glared at for having an accent, you and Ricky were worth it all.”

Gabe was shell shocked, he’d always appreciated what his father had done for him, and the last thing he’d ever want to do is seem ungrateful. “Papi…”

“Gabriel, if you keep the baby, what’s the biggest problem that could happen?”

“I get fired. I get the rest of my friends fired.”

“Would your friends understand?” Alex would. Ryland would be sort of mad, but Alex would talk him down out of even saying anything. Nate might be a little pissed, but he’d forgive him. Victoria… Vicky would be mad. She probably wouldn’t forgive him. He shuddered a little.

“Some of them.”

“Gabe, if they don’t understand how important this was to you, why are you friends with them?”

“They’re co workers that have become friends.”

Diego sighed. “Gabriel, you have to make the right choice for you. I don’t want to pressure you, but I’m not going to let other people rule you, alright mijo?”

Gabe gulped and nodded. “What if I keep it?”

“I’ll love you no matter what, Gabriel. And if you keep it, I’ll love my grand child just as much.”

He nodded, standing up. “Thank you, Papi.”

Diego stood up to hold his son in a hug. “You should stay tonight. We have the guest room.”

“No, I’m alright-“

“Gabriel, you are staying here tonight.” Gabe was immediately reminded where he got his stubbornness, and knew he was not going back tonight.

Diego looked his son up and down, and took his hand. “Gabriel. I’m not going to say this is any father’s dream. But when you showed up tonight, saying you had made a mistake? This was the farthest thing from my mind. A baby is a good thing. Even if it’s not, there’s always another option. I don’t have to worry about my son dying of AIDS because he loved the wrong person. And I’ll be here to help you, and your child if you need it.”

Gabe didn’t say anything, but the tears streaming down his face and the hug he gave his father said everything Diego needed to hear.

He settled down for bed in his father’s spare bedroom, stripping down to his underwear and turning off all lights besides the one by his bed. As he settled under the sheets, he let his fingers curl around his still flat, toned belly, rubbing softly with a hum of familial embrace. “I think I already fucking love you,” he whispered, tears choking through his voice. It didn’t take much longer before he was asleep, tearstained cheeks drying in salty patterns in the lamp light.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Did this turn out how I wanted it to? Not exactly! But it’s okay! As always, feedback is appreciated.

“I’m keeping it.”

“You’re what?” Nate looked up at him on disbelief.

“I’m keeping it. I’m having a baby guys, isn’t this exciting?” Gabe tried to lighten the mood a little. “New cobra kid?” He shrugged sheepishly.

Alex basically tackled him in a hug. “Congrats bro, that’s awesome!” He pulled away, grinning. Ryland joined him in hugging Gabe.

“Wow who knew our own Gabe was catching the baby fever. Congratulations.”

Gabe blushed a little. “Thanks dude.”

“What Wentz have to say about it?” Alex smiled. Gabe shrugged.

“Didn’t tell him.” The room went silent.

“You what?” Nate asked.

“Well, when I went to see him in New York, it turns out he hadn’t already talked to his wife. So, I left mid conversation. He’s probably in the dog house, and I don’t think a call from me would make it better.”

“Gabe! You still have to tell him, he’s still your boss.” _My boss_ , were the words Vicky didn’t say, but he could feel them in her voice. He heard the echo of _you better not fuck this up for me_.

“I’m not going to not tell him! It’s still his fucking kid, but if he wants custody rights, he’s going to have to earn them. I’m not letting him just waltz into my life or this kids unless he shows me that he deserves to be the kids father.”

“Why, cause he’s already your _Daddy_?” Nate snickers.

“Let’s get one thing fucking straight, since when do I have a daddy kink?” He glares at him. Nate shrugged.

“Not saying you do-“

“You kinda just did.”

“You’re not exactly quiet in bed, Saporta, it’s a tour bus, we’ve heard you. We know your secret, bitch boy, and now we know for sure Pete Wentz was tapping that. And he got you your record deal, and your job with his fashion company, just assumed you had a little sugar daddy thing going on.” Nate shrugged.

“Okay, for the record, I do NOT call him daddy, alright? And maybe this was just a one time thing, why do you assume I bottomed every other time I’ve fucked?” Vicky snorts.

“Seriously, Saporta? You’re obviously the bitch, you’re whiny as hell, always looking for someone to push the limits on, tell you to to shut your mouth and beg.” She teased. “Not to mention, you do have a thing for rich guys.”

“This wasn’t just a one night stand, okay? It wasn’t just me fucking the prettiest, sluttiest guy in the room?”

“What do you mean?”

“I… I love Pete.” His voice cracked through the whisper, and he flushed again. “Loved. He’s a fucking bastard, who can rot for all I care.”

They went silent pretty quick. All four of them knew Pete and Gabe were best friends (and definitely more than that) for a long time. They had known Gabe had lusted after Pete from when they first met, but love? They hadn’t even talked about love. “Gabe…” Alex started but Gabe shut him down.

“It’s fine, ya know? It’s not like he loved me back or anything.” He spat angrily, pacing back and forth, gesticulating wildly. “It never meant anything to him. He didn’t even want to talk when I said I was… he just offered me money to get rid of it. Like I was a whore, groveling at his feet for it, instead of his _best fucking friend_.” He kicked the wall, making the whole room vibrate. He turned around and slumped against it, falling to a sitting position, silent tears streaming down his face.

Victoria, Nate, Ryland and Alex stood in shock, watching him collapse with sobs. He was embarrassed at their stares but he was hurting, and damn, it’s felt good to cry. He wanted Pete, he wanted his dad, he wanted to be somewhere that felt like home. Not this strange house with the occasional camera crew. He hugged his knees to his chest, and his his face behind them. He sniffled, sobbing into his purple jeans.

“Maybe I should just fucking get rid of it.” He said after a good five minutes. He stood up, mostly not crying. “I mean, it would make everyone’s life a whole lot easier.”

Alex sighed. “Gabe. Don’t fucking do that.”

“What do you mean, Suarez? You don’t know-“

“Gabe, are you going to seriously base this off what would be easier on Pete?”

“I mean-“

“Gabe, you just said you wanted this kid.”

“I like the idea of the kid-“

“You were going to keep it. You just said so yourself.”

“Suarez-“

“Gabe, you can’t make every life choice based on what anyone else wants you to do. You’re the king of saying fuck you to society and you’re just letting Pete’s life get in the way of you living yours?” Ryland interjected.

“I mean, do you think I wanted to get knocked up Ryland?” He growled, a deep sound that got choked out by a sob. “He’s basically already fucked up my life, one way or another.”

“He fucked up his own life too.” Nate’s twang cut through the bullshit. “I mean, whatever the hells going on at his place, Ashlee can’t be too happy with him. Sorry bastard’s gonna be in the dog house for a damn long time. If she hadn’t already filed.”

“I’m not going to be the reason the get divorced-“

“Pete fucking you behind Ashlee’s back for the entirety of their relationship is why they’re going to divorce. If the poor girl knows what’s good for her.”

Gabe nodded, sniffling as he wiped his tears. “I guess you’re right.”

Alex chuckled. “Geez, no need to be so humble.” He teased. “But of course we’re right.”

“You still should get rid of it,” Victoria piped up. Everyone stared at her, Nate and Ryland a bit confused, Alex fuming, and Gabe on the verge of tears again. “What? You can’t tour while pregnant, you can’t tour with a newborn if you’re doing this single parent style, you can’t hide the pregnancy forever, and what happens when it comes out that you had an affair with Pete? Tabloids eat that shit for breakfast, and the mast thing we want is that type of attention, not with a newborn.”

“Getting bad publicity is the worst of our worries? Come on, Vicky, every thinks we’re a bunch of fags already.” Gabe spat. “My dad said he’d help take care of the baby.”

She rolled her eyes. “Yeah right, dump him on your father, that’ll show your competence as a parent.”

“Well, I’d rather do that than put the kid up for adoption, or let Pete have custody. Hell, I’d quit the band if it meant that much for our press.”

“You can’t just quit on us! Do you know how much we put into this?”

“Cobra Starship was my damn band, my project, my self discovery, Victoria. Without me, there would be no band. Without you, we get a new keytar player. Maybe one who wouldn’t judge me for wanting to raise my baby!” He snapped. Victoria was shocked, jaw hitting the floor, absolutely speechless. He sighed. “I’m not going to apologize.”

“I know you aren’t.” She said stiffly.

He sighed. “I will call him. But only cause he’s our boss. Actually, fuck it. Dan and the team can deal with that, right?”

“I mean, you still have to call them.”

“I know that, dumbass.”

“Gabe.” Alex spoke up. “Please. We know you’re fucking stressed, but no need to be a dick about it, okay? Go get some sleep, call Lipinski in the morning.”

Gabe started to argue, but the glares of the others in the room shut him down. Alex was right, as usual. He was anxious and taking it out on his friends. He dragged himself upstairs and prepared for a meltdown worthy of shutting himself in the room.

\- ~ -

Dan was, in short, pretty pissed. His client was three months pregnant, unmarried to the father, and unwilling to cooperate. The saving grace for Gabe was that he was told he wouldn’t start showing until late. It gave them more time, he supposed. In all honesty, he did care, he hid his insecurities behind a very thin veil of ego. But it was only a few months, right? Then a baby, which is sort of annoying, but also cute and exciting. He’d yet to think of the thing growing in him as a baby, but he still wasn’t mentally processing entirely the idea of something growing in him entirely.

After a week of stressing and faking doctors consultations, Cobra’s management set out a tentative plan. They would finish the MTV show, finish Warped tour, then go on tour with Panic at the Disco, then their own tour, then have four months off (the last trimester and one month maternity/paternity leave) until the Believers Never Die Tour. Gabe was never told he could tour, but he wasn’t told he couldn’t do it, so that basically counted. He only had to make it until December, then he could worry about pregnancy, right?

\- ~ -

Warped Tour while pregnant really fucking sucked. Gabe was miserable, always overheating, dry sober, and car sick out of his mind. Every time Brian would take a turn too fast, he’d be stuck vomiting in the bathroom until they made it to their next stop. The bunks seemed more cramped than before, and the smell of sweat and booze in the morning did nothing for his morning sickness.

Going sober was the worst part. The withdrawal caused migraines and he felt himself itching for a drink every time he smelled liquor. And it was pretty often. There was rarely a time in which one of his band mates wasn’t drunk, drinking, or looking to get wasted. He wanted to pretend he was doing himself a favor, getting clean for his own gain, that he found so much more enjoyment now, but he hated it. He missed the feeling of the booze in his system, the weightless feeling of being wasted, the sharp clarity of good vodka. All Gabe wanted was to forget all of it and let himself loose to the music and the night, but god forbid he fucked up the pregnancy. It would only prove everyone right, that he was a horrible parent. And as much as he agreed with them, he’d never be proven wrong if he could help it.

He slipped up a couple of times. Once the anxiety kicked in, there was one or two half-bottle-of-vodka-and-cry nights, and one or two where he didn’t realize his mistake until he was halfway through his beer. He made himself puke it up, not necessarily better but it made him feel better about it, and those nights were few and far between. He knew about the risk, but there were women who drank moonshine through the whole pregnancy and ended up with healthy kids, and women who had a sip of wine while one week pregnant and had fucked up kids. He knew there was a possibility of both, but he was a gambling man, and he stacked the cards for a safe baby.

It wasn’t as though no one noticed something was off. Gabe was on time to warm ups for the first time ever. He didn’t slut around either. William joked that it had been months since he’d seen Gabe’s dick and Gabe almost cried. He was horny as shit, and communal showers and postage stamp bathrooms didn’t lend themselves to jacking off. He didn’t want to do it in his bunk, but he wasn’t making the rest of the band clear out just so he could get his nuts off, not unless he was fucking someone else.

The first time Gabe said he wasn’t drinking, Carden, albeit, already wasted, slapped him in disbelief and asked why the hell he was still slurring his words. The reply of “it’s a fucking accent, fuckface” resulted in a warning to leave the premises immediately. The rest of the FBR crew barely believed him either. After a week of denying partying, someone insisted that someone make sure Gabe wasn’t planning on killing himself.

The only one who seemed to be willing to corner him was Travie. Travie has noticed something was off from the first day Cobra joined them on tour again. Gabe wasn’t drunk, yet always tired, and not hungover, but always nauseous. One night towards the end of the tour, Travie cornered him. Gabe was alone, in his bunk, listening to whatever music suited his depression mood. There was barely any room for Trav to join him, but it felt like months since he had physical contact with someone else, and Travie was never one to shy away from platonic affection.

“You want something, McCoy?” He asked half teasingly.

Trav sighed. “Listen Saporta, I don’t know what’s going on with you. You’re acting wack, but you’re insisting you’re sober. And here’s the damn deal- if you’re sober? I’m proud of you. You loved to fuck yourself up with a good drink, and quitting that shit takes guts, kid. I’ve lived with an alcoholic my whole damn life, and dude, I’m just proud.”

Gabe didn’t know when he started crying, but by the time Trav is done, he’s reduced to sobs. “Travie, I don’t know what to say.”

“Then dont. Cause if you ain’t sober, you need help. Cause if it’s not withdrawal, you’re getting worse. You’re isolating yourself Gabanti. You don’t talk to anyone anymore, what’s wrong?”

“You really wanna know?”

“I wouldn’t ask if I didn’t want to.”

“I’m pregnant.”

Travie took a deep breath and let out a low whistle. “Jesus, Saporta.”

“Don’t believe in the fucker.” He rolled his eyes and wiped his tears. “And I’m not bullshitting you.

“Coulda told a guy sooner.” He was visibly anxious, for no apparent reason, tapping his leg.

“You’re not the father, McCoy.”

Travie didn’t say anything at first, but Gabe watched as he relaxed his shoulders and looked relieved. “Who is it then?” He said after a few minutes of thinking.

“Who do you think?”

“Beckett?”

“Colder.”

“Didn’t know you were making this a game.”

“Life’s a game, and currently I’m cheating and I’m still in last.”

“Jesus, Saporta, you sure you’re not high on crack?”

“No, seriously. And I want you to guess, see how long it takes to figure out my baby daddy.”

Travie rolled his eyes. “Ryland?”

Gabe laughed. “Far off. At least I’ve slept with Bilvy.”

Trav leaned back. “I don’t have a fucking clue, Saporta. Who’s the daddy?”

“Come on, it’s obvious.” He rolled his eyes. Travie sent him a look. “Fine. It’s Wentz.”

“Like, Pete Wentz?” He let out a whistle. “What type of shit did you get yourself into this time Gabe?”

“I can’t believe you didn’t already know?”

“Know what, that you were hooking up with him? Sure. But you being the bitch?”

Gabe shoved him out of the bunk. “Fuck off.”

Travie cackled. “Glad to see you haven’t lost your spunk, kid.”

“I’m two years older than you, asshole.” He grumbled as Travie got back up off the floor.

“But seriously dude. That’s some deep shit you’ve got yourself in. Pete and Ashlee are divorcing, right?”

He nodded. “Ashlee found out about the baby, and let’s just say she wasn’t too happy.”

Travis sighed. “Listen dude, You’re a dick sometimes. But you’re still my buddy and if you need anything- babysitting, spare weed, etc.- I’m here for you.”

He sighed softly as Travie started to walk away. “Hey Trav?”

“Yeah, Gabe?”

“Thanks… and if anyone asks? I’m sober for the summer. Too much strain on the old vocal cords.” He joked lightly, but it came out in a choked out sob. _Damn hormones_ , he sighed.

“Anytime, Saporta.”

\- ~ -

After Warped, they went straight on tour with Panic for a few weeks before retiring home with barely five weeks before their own tour. Gabe knew he was lucky to get the four months of maternity leave, but fuck, December felt so far away. At least he wasn’t showing yet- he’d managed to make it into the third month without any weight gain. It was a little disconcerting, but with all the throwing up he did, he didn’t question it. He was still bloated sometimes, and the nausea didn’t go away. The one thing he didn’t expect was the skin problems. For the first time since he was a basement dwelling teenager, he found himself sunburnt. He ended Warped paler than he had been since high school. The sweat from his teenage years seemed to come with it. His face was greasier than it had been in a decade, and his hair lost some of its curl due to the excess oil and he found himself showering at least twice a day. The only positive he could pick out was the reemergence of his childhood freckles, long since blended in with his tan. He had always been told he looked more like his father, slender, dark, a more Sephardi look, but part of him reveled in the light dusting of freckles across his nose and cheeks, a soft remanent of his mother’s side of the family.

He barely thought about the baby, at no fault but his own. He avoided the tabloids steaming with fresh headlines about the Simpson-Wentz divorce.

He went to one doctors appointment before going on tour, with a nice woman that remind him of a girl he dated in high school. She told him he was fine to tour, and listed a few brands of motion sickness pills that were more pregnancy safe. He tested them out by stopping at the Duane Reade outside the office and taking the subway back to his apartment. Not his wisest choice, but he certainly got a definitive answer.

\- ~ -

The Sassy Back Tour was something that would have thrilled Gabe had he wanted to do something besides be home. Full of theatrics and music and a good majority of his friends. Headlining on their own was fun, plus they got to be around some younger, equally awesome bands  

But unfortunately, the pregnancy had him hovering over trash cans and sitting out parties for the majority of this tour as well. There was one new development that he was pretty pissed about, that being the urge to pee at least once an hour. It sucked when you had a 40 minute set, and from what he had been told, it was only going to get worse.

Two weeks into the tour, regular morning sickness subsided, however the motion sickness kept a tight schedule. He was no longer as drowsy, but the weariness of tour had set in. He craved for his apartment, his dads house, anything other than the stuffy bus. The libido never waned either. During the month off, he jacked off more than he thought imaginable, but now he was back on a bus and he was stuck blue balling himself.

He was five months pregnant and had yet to start showing. He felt the changes though, the softening of his abdominal muscles, the shortness of breath, the way his hips never ceased aching. He had yet to even feel the baby move, but it still had a presence in his life. What he always heard, but never believed, was the way his back always aches and his hips throbbed with every step. Gabe felt as though his body HATED him. He could barely even sit down anymore without a sharp pain, yet he did the best to mask it.

Being on the road for almost two months meant no doctors appointments besides a quick run in at urgent care. He kept the picture of the most recent ultrasound folded up in his bunk where no one else could see. It wasn’t as though the rest of the band didn’t know, but he liked keeping it a secret. It made his heart flutter, a little bit of home.

The homesickness hit hard. Harder than his first tour with Midtown, harder than moving from Queens to New Jersey, even worse than coming to America for the first time (okay, maybe not that bad- at least everyone here spoke the same language). He didn’t miss his apartment, or his dads house, or even the city. He missed family- outside of his friends in the band. He missed his father, his step mom, hell, even his real mom some of the time. He missed his whiny little brother, his distant step siblings, and even some of his relatives half a world away, some of them already dead and gone.

He missed Pete. He missed their drunken make out sessions, the way they moved in a fit of lust and passion, the weight of Pete’s body against his own. He missed the teasing, the jokes about Pete’s height, Pete’s jokes about his own. He missed having someone he could spill his guts to. It was edging into November and he snapped. The cruel part of him slipped for the soft side, and he regretted it as soon as he picked up the phone.

“Hey Pete.”

“Gabe?”

“You miss me, Wentz?” He laughed dryly.

“Fuck dude, I don’t want to deal with your bullshit right now.”

“What do you mean, my bullshit?” Gabe can basically hear Pete roll his eyes on that one.

“Ashlee and I are getting divorced. Maybe you haven’t heard?” He spits it out angrily. “I mean, least you could’ve done was close the door on your way out.”

“The fuck do you mean?”

“You’re still pregnant, aren’t you? You never got rid of it like you said you would.”

“Oh, so you’re blaming all this on me now?” Gabe scoffed. “Seems odd cause I’m not the one that cheated on my pregnant wife.”

“Don’t pretend you didn’t have a girlfriend. You’re just as bad as I am.”

“Bianca and I had an agreement. When I was on tour, she could fuck who ever she wanted, and so could I. You know why we broke up? Because I said I made a mistake and it wasn’t fair to her. And do you know what? She was pissed. But she knew about our agreement. And honestly? She’s just pretty glad I didn’t give her HIV or some shit cause I was fagging behind her back.” He spits, blood boiling. “We were an on again, off again thing. It’s not like we were _married_ or anything.”

Pete’s jaw dropped. “Are you shitting me right now? My wife filed for divorce because of this. She’s going to win full custody of our son. Gabe, you have no idea how much I need this. I was doing so good, my mental health, my physical health, I had a good date life-“

“Good side hoe, too?” He scoffed.

“Fuck you. I had the American dream, okay? Baby on the way, good job, Hot wife, a nice NYC apartment-“

“And you fucked it up. Pete, you cheated. You had been cheating for a while. You broke Ashlee’s trust by fucking someone else behind her back.”

“And you let me! You were my friend, Saporta, and you let me wreck my marriage like that?”

“I was your _friend?_ ” Gabe’s jaw went slack. “Listen Wentz. I don’t know if you knew this. I don’t even know if you’re smart enough to realize it. But I loved you. I was in love with you. Pete, you were my world. I dreamed about you, I wanted to wake up next to you every morning for the rest of my life, I wanted to call you my family. You weren’t a friend with benefits, Wentz, I was in love with you.”

“You…you what?” Pete’s voice is quiet, small, unlike him.

“I was in fucking love with you, Pete. How many damn times do I have to say it?”

“Since when?”

“Since I first started talking to you, dude. You were wild, creative, and didn’t mind my head on style of flirting-“

“You mean acting like a douche and repeatedly insulting me?”

“Yeah. I do. That was the problem. As madly in love with you as I was, you were oblivious. You had no fucking clue. And you left me out to dry. One day we’re making out in Angels and Kings, the next day, you’re married to Ashlee. I wasn’t even invited to the wedding.” Hes sobbing now. He doesn’t know what to do, so he breaks down.

“Gabe, I- I need some time.”

“You’ve had three months, dipshit.”

Pete sighed. “I’ll call you back, okay?”

No. Not okay. Not fucking okay at all, but Pete’s already hung up. And Gabe is left alone again, heart aching more than ever.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I have no idea how this fic got to be so long, but hey, it’s over 20000 words wtf!
> 
> This fic is totally different conceptually from what I had originally intended. When I first started writing it back in July, I had it in sort of a Mamma Mia style hilarity with Pete, Travie, and William all vying for the position of Gabe’s baby daddy. However, the whole shit show with William happened and Trav just sorta fell outta the picture. 
> 
> I’m still figuring out my writing style, I’m almost embarrassed by how bad the first chapter of this is, and I cringe every time i get a notification saying Youre Wrong got kudos. These chapters take forever to write, but if you’d prefer shorter, more frequent chapters, just let me know! 
> 
> Also the dates for Rosh Hashanah and Yom Kippur might not be correct but I knew it was really late in 2008 and I couldn’t find a great calendar. I was only 6 in 2008 don’t sue me

It took Pete nearly a month to call back. By the time he called, tour was almost over and Gabe was pretty sick of being pregnant. He was 24 weeks, and with seven days until tour was over, he was pretty damn ready for it to be done. He had finally started to show a tiny bit, and it was already annoying. It wasn’t obvious enough for his pants not to fit, or anyone else to notice, but his shirts fit tighter, and his hips were constantly throbbing. He hated every damn second of it. 

When Pete called, he didn’t protest. He sat back, tired, and waited for Pete to start explaining himself. 

“Hey Saporta.” 

“What do you want Wentz?”

“Can’t I just talk to you?”

“Not anymore,” Gabe sighed. Not that that ever kept Pete from continuing. 

“So, how was your birthday?”

“My birthday was in October, asshole. I already had my birthday last time we talked.” He didn’t do anything for his birthday anyway. Rosh Hashanah was was unusually late that year, which landed Yom Kippur starting the night before his birthday. He didn’t end up fasting or going to services, cause of the baby and the tour respectively, but he reduced his intake and decided partying wasn’t the best way to spend one of the holiest days of the year. 

“Oh.”

“Yeah, forgetting my birthday and making up for it almost two months later. Almost as mature as not calling your pregnant- well, whatever I am to you- for three weeks.”  
He heard Pete take a sigh on the other line. 

“Gabe-“

“Pete, do you want to be in my life, or not? Cause I’m not holding you to anything. I just need to fucking know before I get my heart broken all over again!”

“Gabe. Please, let me explain-“

“You didn’t talk to me for almost a month, and all of a sudden you’re exchanging small talk? What the hell?”

Pete was silent for a couple minutes after that. When he did speak, his voice was quiet and gentle. 

“I have a son, Gabe.”

“What?”

“Ashlee and I’s kid. He was born two days ago. Bronx Mowgli Wentz.” 

“Pete, I-“

“Ashlee let me be there for his birth. And we’re getting split custody. She got primary.”

There was a long moment of silence between the two of them before Gabe sighed. “So…”

“The divorce goes into effect as soon as I sign the papers. I’m going to do it, Gabe.”

“You should. She deserves it.”

“I know.” He heard Pete sigh again, this time more torn up. “Gabe- we need to talk.”

“We are talking.”

“Thanks, dumbass. But in person. I want to see you again.” 

“Shouldn’t I be like… the last person you want to see around now?”

“Gabe, there’s stuff we do need to talk about. And I miss you.”

Gabe was rarely at a loss for words. But this… he wanted to scream at Pete. Pete missed him, yet he left him, pregnant and alone, he hung up on him without a goodbye? Gabe wanted to kick the shit out of him. At the same time he wanted to sob into Pete’s chest, have those strong arms around him, feel the weight of another person against his body, soothing his aches and pains. He wanted to show Pete the ultrasound picture, and have him get all happy and teary eyes like he did when he first showed Gabe the ultrasound of the kid he know knew as Bronx. Fuck. Pete had a baby. And he named it after the worst borough of the city. 

“I wanna see you too, dude. You in New York?”

“Yeah.”

“I’ll see you when I get back in a week. Okay?”

Pete nodded. “Yeah. Okay.” 

This time when he hangs up, Gabe didn’t feel like he was crushed by a freight train. Surprising. 

\- ~ - 

When Gabe got back to his apartment, he did a couple of things. First was the normal post tour routine, restocked the fridge, went through all the mail, dusted off almost everything. Second thing he did was sleep. He stretched out on his bed, enjoying the feeling of not having to sleep with his legs bent or head and slept for almost 18 hours. When he woke up, it was nearly 2:00 in the afternoon, and he had two missed calls from Pete. He sighed, laying in bed for another hour, before procrastinating further and deciding to take a shower. 

He went into the bathroom and started the water running before catching sight of himself in the mirror. His hair was limp and greasy, and the shine of oil on his cheekbones and nose stood out against his slightly more than five o’clock shadow. His eyes looked more sunken in than usual, but he wasn’t sure if that was the pregnancy, or his usual post tour sleep deprivation. His eyes trailed down his body to what was now an undeniable baby bump. He was still smaller than he should be for the start of six months, but he was undeniably showing. The curve of the bump rode up against the band of his sweat pants, pushing them down past his hips. He bit his lip as he lifted up his shirt to reveal the small bump. He ran his hand over the taught skin, tracing the dark stretch marks that had started to form. He didn’t know how to feel. 

He stood there for a few minutes, hand tracing the bump, when he felt it. A small twitch that otherwise he’d cast off as muscle spasms or indigestion. He looked down at himself, and his hand almost completely cover the curve of his bump. “It… moved?” He whispered to himself in wonder and amazement. He felt it again and he almost started to cry. “What the fuck?” He bit his lip, filled with more emotions than he knew how to handle. When the tears did fall, he didn’t know whether he was happy, sad, or just genuinely overwhelmed. He took his shower in silence, letting the hot water soothe his body and wash away the tears. 

\- ~ -

After a shower and breakfast, Gabe sat down at his dining room table and thought through his next plan of action. He needed to call Pete back. He needed to make a doctors appointment. He needed to get his shit back together. 

He made a doctors appointment at an OB/GYN in midtown and procrastinated calling Pete for another 40 minutes looking up baby stuff online. 

According to several sources, he was far enough along that he could find out the gender of the baby, if he wanted. He remembered someone telling him in Hebrew school that it was unlucky for Jewish women to find out the sex before the baby was born. Gabe thought on it for a second, because technically he wasn’t a woman, and he knew it had been over a year since he last went to temple. However, regardless of what Pete would say, this baby was Jewish (well, half Jewish, at least) and Gabe sure as hell wasn’t giving that up. He looked through a few pregnancy sites that were through the NCJW, but most of them focused on incorporating religion into a child’s life rather than the culture and tradition, and his rusty Hebrew only took him so far on some of the more orthodox oriented sites. 

Gabe sighed. It had occurred to him that his concern with Pete wanting a more active parenting role wasn’t what religion to raise the kid- it might be Pete’s reluctance to religion in the kids life at all. Gabe had his edgy phase in high school, and college, and his mid 20s, but he never totally rejected his religious background like some of his Christian colleagues did. He never rejected the idea of a higher power, and he was relieved when he was told his due date, which meant he wouldn’t still be pregnant for Passover. 

Pete, on the other hand, struck Gabe as a staunch agnostic. Not confrontational, but not someone who would be thrilled with their partner’s insistence on raising their child as religious. 

“Add that shit to the list of things to talk about,” Gabe mumbled to himself, preparing himself for the phone call. His hands were shaking and he felt himself hold his breath. _Chill the fuck out dude, no big deal, just basically figuring out if this child is gonna have a father._ he thought sarcastically. He dialed Pete’s number and put the phone on speaker so he could pace while he talked. The phone rang three times before Pete answered. 

“Hello?”

“What’s up dude?”

“Gabe? Hey man, so how was tour?”

“Shit. But it’s your fault for knocking me up so guess I don’t have any other complaints.”

“Geez. Hitting hard with the first hit. Unnecessary, Saporta.”

“Dude, you know why I called. You’re the one that wanted to meet up.” Gabe sighed. Of course Pete was going to be a dick.

“Yeah, I did…”

“And you don’t anymore?”

“No! Um… does tomorrow work?”

“I have a doctors appointment.”

“Could you come over after?” Pete sounded desperate- not what Gabe expected. He thought Pete was dreading seeing him. Maybe that’s what he wanted to Pete to do. 

“Uh, sure, I guess that could work-“

“If you don’t wanna come over, we could meet up, at like, a coffee shop or shit? I dunno man.”

Gabe sighed. Pete was being surprisingly flexible, which meant he was desperate. “Yeah. There’s a place right by my apartment. You remember where it is, right?” 

Pete nodded. “Yeah. Text me when you get back from the appointment, okay? I’ll meet you at your place.”

Gabe swallowed dryly and nodded. “Yeah. Sure thing, Wentz. See you then.”

“Yeah. Don’t forget.”

\- ~ -

It was less of a coffee shop, more of a deli, in Pete’s mind. But Gabe lived in a pretty Jewish part of Manhattan, on the Lower Eastside, as Jewish as the city could get without crossing the river into Brooklyn or Queens, and Pete’s desire for his caffeinated milkshakes under the guise of coffee would have to be satisfied by the black coffee available at the register. He stood out here, more than most places. His midwestern accent, his spiky bangs- he thinks he may have blended in more having not straightened his hair. 

The people there different kind of rich than he was. Lawyers, doctors, Wall Street millionaires, visiting here on their lunch break, or meeting a client to talk. All people his father would have associated with back home in Chicago. The place was almost empty, par the gentle looking old man in a pinstripe suit and bowler hat, gold wrist watch on his left arm who sat in the corner booth reading the New York Times, the young brunette women with tired eyes and perfect curls who are a bagel at the counter, and the up tight man who drank coffee through tight lips, leather brief case held tightly in his spare hand. Pete didn’t fit in here. He wasn’t sure if Gabe did either. 

When Gabe entered, he didn’t acknowledge Pete first. He went straight to the register and ordered his coffee, chatting leisurely with the old gentleman behind the counter. He got his coffee and dumped his change into the take a penny, leave a penny tin. He continued speaking with the server for a few more minutes before meeting Pete at his table. 

Pete had chosen the table closest to the window, furthest from the counter. He couldn’t hear what Gabe was saying, or even what language it was in, despite the deli being smaller than his bedroom. When Gabe sat down, Pete couldn’t help but take notice of the styrofoam cup. He glanced down at his own porcelain cup, barely touched black coffee swirling in the mug. Gabe wasn’t planning on staying long. 

“So… you said you wanted to meet up?” Gabe was the first to break the silence. He was wearing a baggy jacket and a scarf, in colors that far from complimented. His faded Yankees hat shaded his face, but the way he bounced his leg already keyed Pete into his anxiety. 

“Yeah. You look like a train wreck, Saporta.”

“Cmon, Wentz, going for the low blow? I shaved for you and everything.” He chuckled dryly. Pete sighed. 

“You’re not supposed to have coffee while pregnant.”

“Probably not supposed to tour while pregnant either but my boss couldn’t get me out of that one, huh?”

“It’ll stunt the baby’s growth.”

“Is that how you turned out so puny, Wentz?” Pete sighed. The riffing was going to get nowhere. 

“How was the tour?”

“Good. Lots of nice venues. Best part was when I could sleep through a whole 20 hour bus ride and not puke afterward. A surprising feat. Happened a total of once, shoulda been there to see it.” Gabe wasn’t going to let Pete have the last laugh.

Pete sighed. “Wish I coulda been there. Was a little… preoccupied.” Gabe sighed as well. 

“How’s Ashlee?” He practically spat it. 

“Good. Said she’s almost over it. She loves Bronx and so do I. Not only was she uncomfortable with, well-“

“The cheating?”

“Yeah. Not only did that make her upset, reasonably, she sort of didn’t like that I did it with, well,”

“Your best friend?”

“A man. She didn’t like the idea that I was into doing that with guys.”

“Oh.” Pete knew it wasn’t what Gabe expected. He didn’t expect it either. He knew he deserved to be shit on for many things- cheating on his pregnant wife being the major one. But her main complaint being that he liked, was attracted to, men? Regardless of his own fault, something about it didn’t sit right with Pete. 

“Yeah… were officially divorced now. I get custody of Bronx every other week when we’re in the same city, she gets full custody the rest of the time.”

“That doesn’t seem… fair.” Gabe bit his lip. It was fair to the parents, more than generous to Pete, but to the kid? He remembered from his own parents divorce, having to live with his mom and not see his dad for one month out of the year was bad. To have the baby, a newborn, switch houses like that… it was almost inhumane. And part of him still wasn’t over Ashlee’s willingness to forgive cheating but not Pete’s bisexuality. 

“It’ll work. Ashlee and I called a truce. We’ll help each other out.” 

Gabe nodded. “How is Bronx?”

Pete beamed. “He’s adorable. Here-“ he reached into his pocket and pulled out his phone. He smiled at the little photo of his son before handing the photo to Gabe. He watched Gabe’s face light up, and he smiled too. 

“He is adorable.” Gabe smiled. The kid was pretty cute, he had to admit. He flipped through the pictures of the infant before reaching in his pockets. “I have pictures for you too.” He pulled out two sets of folded up paper, one from each pocket. “Which one do you want- blurry, or not.”

“What do you mean-“

“One of them you can see clearly, one of them you can’t, which do you want to see?”

“I don’t understand-“

Gabe sighed. “How much clearer can I make it. Do you want to see the sex, or not?” 

“Oh...” Pete thought on it for a second. “Do you already know?” He watched as Gabe nodded and drummed his fingers on the table. “Then yeah. Clear pictures.” Gabe slid him the photos in his right hand. 

Gabe watched as Pete unfolded the paper and his eyes filled with tears. “You know what that means, right?”

“Holy shit, Gabanti...”

“You know what the picture means thought.” Gabe pressed. “You know what it looks like?”

“I know it sure as hell doesn’t look like Bronx’s” Pete said in awe, tracing the figure of his baby, his _daughter_. Gabe nodded slowly. 

“Yeah. It wouldn’t.” He whispered, tears falling from his own eyes. Pete reached across the table and grabbed Gabe’s hand. 

“She’s beautiful, Gabey.” He watched as Gabe sniffled and let out a light laugh. 

“You know? Part of me really hoped you’d say that.” He chuckled and squeezed Pete’s hand. 

Pete choked down the rest of his coffee and looked up at the much, much taller man. “Let’s go for a walk.” 

Gabe nodded, taking the other photo set and put it back in his pocket, letting Pete hold on to the clear one. He gripped his coffee tightly, letting go of Pete’s hand as Pete led him out of the coffee shop into the brisk December air. 

They were an odd couple, not the oddest the city had seen, but no where close to normal. Pete took Gabe’s hand as the door shut behind him and walked quickly, two strides of his own meeting Gabe’s one. “Where do you wanna go?” Gabe asked after a while. 

“Central Park. It’s nicer there, we can pretend to be tourists for the day.” Pete suggested, giggling a little. 

“You know I don’t go to _that_ part of the city.” Gabe rolled his eyes. “Against my religion. And it’s like, I don’t know, a mile away?” Pete had to think about it for a few seconds before shaking his head and leading them in the direction of the metro that would take them to the park. “Hey, how do you know you’re not having me commit sacrilege?”

“Beastie Boys performed there last summer, dumbass.”

“Yeah, cause that should be your reasoning.”

“I just assumed the Beastie Boys were your religion, you dick.” Gabe laughed harder than he had in a while. It felt nice. After months of not even seeing him, he forgot how much Pete could make him smile. 

“You know what, Wentz? Maybe it’s worth the paparazzi risk to see that damn park.” 

\- ~ -

To Pete’s credit, it was more fun than Gabe expected. Pete led him through the park, past the large rocks and the touristy part of the park, down to a little area that seemed more deserted, as deserted as any part of a city of that stature could be. Pete laid down on the grass and looked to Gabe to do the same. Gabe rolled his eyes, but lay down next to him. “You’re just lucky there’s not snow on the ground.”

“It’s not that cold. And you shouldn’t be lying on your back, right?”

Gabe scoffed. “Fuck off, you’re not my doctor.”

Pete rolled his eyes. “Yeah, yeah, do you want me to care about you, or not.”

He sighed. “I don’t know what I want…”

Pete looked over at him. Gabe was crying again, staring up at the sky. Pete reached for his hand. He didn’t take it, but didn’t pull away when Pete squeezed it gently. “You okay?”

He laughed. “I’m fuckin fine Pete. Literally anything will make me cry now. A couple nights before the end of tour I broke down because they put a dog down on Animal Cops or some shit.” Pete nodded. 

“You cry about that sober, Gabe.”

“Shit dude, don’t have to remind me. And I am sober. Just knocked up.” 

“How’s the whole sober thing treating you?”

Gabe sighed. “It’s been better. Some days I get withdrawal migraines where I can’t do anything but sit in the dark for hours. For the first few months I was always craving a drink, I’d shake when it’d get real bad. Vicky says it shook the tour bus.” He rambled on a little bit. 

Pete nodded. “I’m proud.”

“I mean I slipped at least four- wait. You’re proud of me? For what?”

“You quit. You slipped up a bit, but it showed me you wanted the baby.”

Gabe bit his lip. He wanted to say it was spite, or straight edge, or personal holiness. But he wanted his kid. When the doctor had told him it was a girl, he cried again, because fuck, he was so excited. He imagined teaching her how to light the Shabbat candles, helping her fumble through her Hebrew for her bat mitzvah, taking her to Uruguay at least once, to show her where he came from, the part of his history he’d never let her forget. He had only known about it for less than a couple hours but he already was planning his life around it, and shit, he was crying again. 

“Hey, dude, are you sure you’re fine?” Pete reached over and grabbed his hand. 

“Yeah, man. Just… I don’t know how I’m going to do it?” Gabe sniffled. 

“Do what?”

“Be in a band, tour with you guys, _and_ have this baby.”

“Hey dude, it’ll be okay. It’s only seven weeks at a time, and the next tour you’re going on is going to be with us.”

“You don’t understand, Pete. I’m not bringing my kid on tour. I don’t want to just dump her with my dad, but I’ll probably end up having to do that. He works a full time job cause he was pretty damn young when I was born and even if he could retire, he doesn’t have enough money to do that, and he wouldn’t cause he loves what he does. So she’ll end up with my stepmom, which is fine, but when word gets out that I dumped my kid with someone I’m not even related to, never saw with kids, tabloids would eat that shit. But what else am I supposed to do. I’m going to miss a shit ton of her life because your pissed off manager really wanted us on tour with you so I only get what, a month and a half after she’s born before I leave for two months-“

“Gabe, calm down-“

“Pete, you don’t get it. You can leave Bronx with Ashlee. You can go on tour knowing that your child is with someone who will take care of your baby good enough. I don’t have that, okay? I can’t dump my kid with an Ashlee, because guess what? I am your Ashlee. I’m the one that’s supposed to stay home and look pretty taking care of the kid while you go out and live your life.” He wiped his eyes. “You day it’s just seven weeks. But it’s not. It’s the seven weeks of tour, then two weeks of being home, then another two months without my baby-“

“No it won’t.”

“What—“

“You guys are releasing a new album, right?”

“I mean, it was an idea, we never set it in stone or even started writing anything yet.”

“Yeah, but you have what, three months till you have the kid? Write something. If you’re leading up to a record release, you’ll be off the tour circuit for like, months.”

Gabe sighed. “Wow, so generous of you, as my baby daddy, to give me a whole ‘like, months’ with our baby.”

“I’m trying to figure it out okay?”

“No, you’re trying to figure out how you can swing it so you can still get out of it easy. Your company is giving me a fucking month of unpaid maternity leave. They’re giving you five months of leave, and you didn’t even have the baby.”

“You’re getting four right now-“

“That’s not maternity leave, that’s ‘we don’t want your gross dude pregnancy fucking up our public image’ leave.”

Pete lay back down in the grass and bit his lip. “You know, I’m not the heartless jackass you’ve made me out to be in your mind, Saporta.”

“And I’m not the lenient little groupie who’s okay with you knocking me up then going MIA.”

Pete sighed, looking at Gabe. “I’m sorry.”

“You can say that again.” He scoffed. 

“I am, Gabe. I’m sorry for everything. I didn’t mean to hurt you.”

“You meant to hurt Ashlee?”

“No! Not at all, fuck, no!” He shouted out, anxiously. Gabe reaches for his hand and squeezed it. 

“Chill out, Wentz. I didn’t really mean it that much.” 

Pete sighed. “What I meant was, it wasn’t that I never reciprocated your feelings. I did. I loved you too, I just…”

“Never knew how to say it?” Gabe offered. 

“Never came to terms that it was even okay for me to like another guy like that.”

“Well, I mean, you clearly liked another guy like that enough to put a fucking baby in him.” Gabe teased, but he softened his voice to be less harsh. 

“I know that, dude. Trust me. And I fucked up big time. I know that too. But I want to try and fix this. I want to make it right between us.”

Gabe sighed. “Pete, I’m not going to let you force yourself to love me cause of a baby-“

“That’s not what I’m doing-“

“Hear me out, asshole.” Gabe barked, sounding meaner than he intended. He took a deep breath and sighed. “My parents were really young when I was born, okay? Like younger than we are. I probably wasn’t supposed to have happened. Then they felt bad and had my brother, then felt worse, so they tried to get us the fuck outta Uruguay and to America-“

“I’ve heard your life story before, get to the point.”

Gabe huffed. “My parents divorce fucked me up, Pete. My mom leaving is the reason I started drinking, why I got so depressed as a teen. If we force a relationship where there isn’t one, this kids gonna get hurt. And don’t say it won’t happen. Because it will, and goddamn it, I don’t want my baby to be a teenage alcoholic because she can’t even go home at night without her parents fighting about how they don’t love each other!” He was exasperated. He dabbed his cheeks for tears he didn’t know were falling and sat in silence while Pete took in the information he was told. 

When Pete finally spoke again, his voice was weak and cracked as on the edge of tears. “But I do love you…”

“Enough to marry and have a child with a woman?” Gabe wanted to sound meaner, but his words came out as broke and desperate. 

“I’m sorry, Gabe. Really. I thought I loved Ashlee, I think I did love her, and I knew if I married her I’d never have anyone call me gay or fag, or anything like that. But it was just lust and infatuation and I’ve like you for years. Like, in the four years since we first met, I’ve liked you the whole time. Shit, dude, you’re my best friend, you’re funny, you’ve got the damn body of a model-“

He laughed. “You just gotta hope she gets my height. Otherwise, my poor baby’s going to be cursed to your life of chasing after me.”

Pete grumbled. “You know, I’m not that short. Even if she was only my height, she’d still be tall for a girl.”

“Whatever,” he shrugged, sitting up. Pete stood and helped him up. 

“I mean it though. I do love you.”

Gabe sighed. He wanted more than anything to hug him, kiss him deeply, tell him he loved him like the world depended on it, go back to one of their apartments and get the shit fucked out of himself. But he had to do what he needed to. “I think I love you too. But we can’t force any of this. You know that. So do I. You’re still my best friend. And I think we need to start there, okay?”

Pete nodded. “I think I can do that.”

Gabe sighed. “I need to head home.” He needed to get himself away from Pete, away from everything that involved _this_. 

Pete sighed. “Wait. Gabe, fuck, I missed you. And I don’t want us to ignore each other.”

“We’re not ignoring each other.”

“Well we shouldn’t. I want you to meet Bronx, okay?”

Gabe bit his lip. “Yeah. Okay.”

Pete sighed. “Gabe, I know you’re scared to hurt the kid by rushing in to shit. But we’ve known each other for years, loved each other for years. That’s gotta count for something.”

And Gabe knew it did, he flashed back to his days of pouring over psych textbooks and how basic infatuation expires in the first three years and time really does show the test of a relationship. But having a baby also can affect that, and like it or not, he and Pete were having a baby. “I think starting off as friends couldn’t hurt…” he sighed, standing up and dusting off his pants. 

Pete nodded. “I’m willing to put the effort in. Trust me.”

Gabe looked down at him, meeting Pete’s hazel green eyes, and he can’t help but think about their baby. He hoped she’d end up with Pete’s eyes instead of his dirt brown ones, or maybe even his grandmothers ashki gray-blues. He hugged Pete close, having forgotten how much the older man was shorter than him. 

Pete smiled, hugging back gently. “Bronx is at my place this weekend. You can come over any time, ‘cept 8-8:30 Saturday morning and 9-9:30 Sunday night.”

“Why, is that when your mistress comes?”

Pete rolled his eyes. “You are my mistress, Saporta.”

“Gee, Thanks.”

“Don’t flatter yourself. And no, that’s when Ashlee’s dropping off the baby. I don’t want her to see you.”

Gabe nodded. “Yeah. I get it. I mean, I don’t, but I do.”

Pete sighed and pulled away. “I’ll see you Saturday, alright?”

Gabe nodded, and went to speak, but Pete was already turned around, walking away. He jogged a bit to catch up to him. “Hey.”

“Yeah?” Pete turned around, a little confused.

“I’m sorry for how I treated you, okay? This isn’t all your fault. I mean, most of it is-“

“Um…”

Gabe sighed. “Sorry. What I’m trying to say is, I made some mistakes too. And I still love you. It just… needs time.”

Pete nodded. “I love you too. And Gabe?”

He looked up. “Yeah?”

“Bring a copy of that ultrasound, would you?” Pete grinned. 

Gabe smiled and nodded, starting the long trek back to his apartment, fingers grazing over his bump through the pocket of his jacket. 

Walking up the stairs to his apartment the baby kicked up at him and he smiled to himself. He revels in it for a second, softly whispering “te amo, cariña” before opening the door to his apartment, locking it behind him, and falling asleep on the couch.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ahhhh finally got this up!!!! First post in 2019!!! Sorry for the short chapter, between robotics and midterms, I haven’t really had time to work on it! Next couple months will have shorter chapters as well, so sorry in advance. Love all of ya, and comments are much appreciated!!!!!!

Patrick Stump was pissed. Of course, Pete was lonely, and Pete being lonely lead to not so great things. Truth to be told, Patrick hadn’t been feeling to great himself, but he blamed its on the stress of the holidays, the depressing lack of sunlight in Chicago, and whatever trivial bullshit Pete wandered into. 

“Pete, come on. It can’t be that bad.”

“Of course it’s that bad, I’m fucking divorced, Patrick! I’m alone now. Forever!”

Patrick sighed. “Pete, why are you calling me if you want someone to hang out with? I’m 1000 miles away, dumbass.”

Pete groaned. “You’re the only one who loves me anymore, Patrick,” he whined like an impatient child. 

“Pete, isn’t Bronx coming over, like, in two days?”

“Yeah, but that’s a long time, Patrick.”

“No, it’s really not.” 

Pete groaned. “Fine.”

“Isn’t there someone in New York you could hang out with?”

“I guess.”

“What about Gabe? He’s your friend. He’ll get wasted with you and kick you outta your misery.”

“He’s coming over on Saturday.”

“Well, perfect!” Patrick grumbled. “Maybe he’ll make use of that random 4 months off Cobra managed to get for no fucking reason….”

“Hey!” Pete seemed upset. “Maybe there’s a reason.”

“Well, if there is one, let me know. You should know, you’re the boss!” 

Pete sighed. “Yeah, I know!”

Patrick sighed. “Just, I dunno, call Gabe, get wasted, fuck around or whatever you two do when we leave the bus, and you’ll feel better in no time.”

“Hey-“

“I’m right. Anyway, just call him. I’m sure he’s got some nice vodka and a great game plan for helping you through the divorce.”

“That’s the problem, ‘Trick.”

“What’s the problem-“

“Gabe’s the reason for the divorce.”

Patrick let out a low sigh, and channeled his entire soul into resisting the urge to punch the wall. “What do you mean?”

“Well-“

“Did you cheat on Ashlee with Gabe?”

“I mean, well-“ Pete sounded skittish. 

“You cheated on your pregnant wife with your friends with benefits.”

“He’s more than just that-“

“Enough to cheat on your wife for?”

Pete sighed. “I was in love with him, but I didn’t know how to confront my feelings for a man, so I married a woman.”

“So your internalized homophobia is hurting what, four people now? Including yourself?”

“For someone who spends a lot of time swearing up and down they’re not my therapist, you sound a lot like my therapist.”

“Shut up asshole. So you divorce Ashlee and give Cobra Starship some pity time off?”

“ _Technically_ , they’re on a break to work on more material.” 

Patrick sighed, sitting down. “But you’re really just letting them down easy so nothing gets shaken to the surface about the divorce. Got it.”

“I mean… in one way or another that’s exactly what it is.”

Patrick raised an eyebrow. “Pete? You’re hiding something. Dancing around the truth won’t get you anywhere.”

He sighed. “Okay here’s the shit… you can’t get mad at cobra for needing some time off, cause I’m the reason they need time off.”

“Why, cause you were blaming their front man for your marital issues?”

“Cause I knocked their front man up!” Pete groaned, exasperated. Patrick went silent.

“What…” Patrick was stunned. Pete had to be joking, right? Stupid, weird, misplaced joke, right? “Pete, that’s not funny. Seriously what’s happening?” 

“I don’t think it’s funny either, ‘trick.”

“Then why the hell did you say it?” Patrick groaned. 

“Cause it’s the fucking truth!” Pete exclaimed. 

Patrick sighed and sat down. “Pete, listen. I’m going to tell you something very important. Men. Can’t. Have. Babies. What type of bullshit are you spouting?”

“It’s a real thing! That like, a decent member of guys can do! Like, two percent or whatever,” Pete frantically explained. 

“Pete. I know this divorce is stressful on you. But making up bullshit like this?”

“Don’t believe me?”

“Of course I don’t believe you, Pete. Of course not.”

“Okay then.”

Patrick raised an eyebrow, despite Pete not being able to see him. “What?”

“You don’t believe me? Call Gabe. Ask him how the baby is, say Pete wanted to know if you feel weird about it.”

“What do I get if I’m right?”

“Then you can literally shoot me in the balls.”

“No really Pete.”

“Um…okay. Then if you’re right and Gabe isn’t pregnant with our baby, you can name the next kid I do have.”

“Seriously.”

“I’m dead serious, Trick. Next of my babies is all yours, if I’m wrong. But if I’m right…”

“Then what?”

“You pay for dinner when I have Gabe over on Saturday.”

“Deal.”

“Just so you know, Gabe likes this one kosher pizza place down in Brooklyn, so delivery’s gonna be a little extra, especially this time of year-“

“That’s not going to be a problem, Pete.”

“Well then, if you’re so sure.”

Patrick sighed. “Guess I’ll call you back then?”

“Guess so.” Patrick hung up. _What type of crack was Pete even on?_ he wondered. And where could he find some?

\- ~ -

Gabe barely even heard the phone ring the first time. He was half asleep at the moment, trying to stay awake for the last ten minutes of Animal Cops. He was exhausted and needed a solid cry to relieve the stress and the hormones. The second ring startled him out of his half lucid state. He fumbled for his phone wiping his eyes and pulling himself together, wincing at his voice crack.  
“Hey.”

“Saporta, what’s up dude?”

“Patrick? Oh hey, yeah, nothing much, you in New York this week?”

“Nah, Pete’s just complaining to me about how lonely he is. Was thinking maybe you two could like, I don’t know, go out for a drink or something? Pull him out of his misery, Gabe. Dude so sleep deprived he’s talking total bullshit.”

Gabe chuckled. “Honestly that sounds like sleep deprived Pete.”

Patrick nodded. “Yeah. Um, there is something i need to talk to you about-“

“As my producer? Or as my friend?”

“As your friend.”

Gabe breathed a silent sigh of relief. He relaxed back into the couch. “What you got for me, Patrick?”

Patrick chuckled. “It’s nothing big. Just Pete’s hallucinatory bullshit.”

Gabe smiled. “What’s that got to do with me?”

Patrick rolled his eyes “Oh, don’t worry bout it. Just-“ He sighed. _Fuck, did he really have to say this?_ “You’re not like, i don’t know, pregnant or anything, right?”

Gabe chuckled. “Dude, you’re fucking serious? Wentz didn’t tell you?”

“Tell me what- oh god, no.”

“What?”

“You’re actually pregnant, aren’t you?”

“I mean, yeah dude. Why do you think I got four months off?” He chuckled nervously.

“To work on the album! Like you told us was happening!” 

“Pete seriously didn’t tell you?”

“No, dumbass. Why do you think I’m calling you?”

“To check in on Pete?”

“I mean, yeah, that too.” Patrick sighed. “He’s doing pretty rough. I think I forgot how much he actually loved Ashlee.”

Gabe nodded. “Yeah. He’s not doing great.”

“You’re going over to his place on Saturday, right?”

“Yeah. Wants me to meet his kid. Well, his other kid, I guess.” 

“Holy shit. You guys are actually having a baby together. Damn. Wow.” 

Gabe nodded. “I mean, yeah. I’m like, six months”

Patrick’s jaw dropped. “You’re what? You mean a baby is coming out of your- well, whatever, in three fucking months?! That’s bullshit!”

Gabe chuckled a little nervously. “Patrick, I have off for these four months-“

“Yeah, but you should have told me earlier!”

“Pete should have told you, dumbass. He’s your best friend, shouldn’t he tell you that kinda shit?”

“Just cause he should doesn’t mean he did.” Patrick sighed. “Dude, im sorry. If he’s ever being a dick about any of this, please, let me know. I’ll kick his ass.”

“If you can reach that-“

“Oh, fuck off, you can’t make fun of me- your baby daddy’s only two inches taller than me, so if you really were that opposed, you wouldn’t be in this mess.”

Gabe sighed. “Oh shut up.”

Patrick sighed. “You are, like, actually gonna work on music though, right?”

Gabe groaned. “You expect me to actually work? What’s this bullshit?”

“This ‘bullshit’ is that you’re taking four months off and we have to tell the fans something. And we can’t just say you’re working on music then have no music.”

He grumbled. “Fine. I’ll talk to the guys about it for a little bit.”

Patrick let out a sigh. “Listen. I was serious when I said that I’m here if you need anything. You’re my friend, Gabe. And I want a part in my godbaby’s life-“

“Who ever said you were gonna be the kids godfather?” He chuckled. 

“It’s still my best friends kid. Both of my best friends’ kid. And if you need help, I’m here for you.”

“Thanks man. Means a lot.” He smiled, getting a little choked up. 

“Shit dude, you’re not going all sappy on me, are you? Cause if you are I’m hanging up.” 

“Yeah, hang up. Call Wentz back, tell him he’s a fuckface who’s ruining my life and also I love him.”

“Gross, not being your messenger for your disgusting love fest.”

“See ya round Stump.”

Patrick sighed. “Hey, Gabe- quick question.”

“Shoot it.”

“What’s the address of that pizza place Pete says you like?”

\- ~ -

Pete sighed, tipping the pizza boy and sending a picture of the receipt to Patrick. ‘Next time i see you, this plus $10 tip, k stump?’

He set the pizza down of the table, taking a look around his apartment. It was roughly decorated for Christmas, fake tree in the corner by the dinner table and strands of tinsel hanging up around the apartment. Decorations weren’t the best, but they were up, and with five days until Christmas, that’s the best he was going to get. 

He picked up Bronx, who had just woken up from his nap and had started to get fussy, grabbing a bottle and sitting down to feed him. Bronx ate ravenously, gazing up at his father. Pete sighed and got up to walk him while he fed him.  
Being a single parent was harder that he thought. He didn’t really know what he expected, everyone said it was going to be rough, but he felt overwhelmed. He flopped down on the couch and helped Bronx eat, watching as he downed the bottle. “You’re lucky you’re cute.” He chuckled lightly, running his finger along his sons cheek. 

After burping Bronx and setting him back down in the crib, he relaxed back on the couch. Just when he got himself settled, the doorbell rang. 

“I’m coming, I’m coming!” Pete called out, rushing to the door. He opened it hurriedly, to find Gabe leaning against the doorframe, leg crossed as he leaned at an angle in a way Pete could only describe as flamboyant.

“Wow Wentz, not the first time I’ve heard you say that.” He cackled, as Pete grabbed him by the collar of his white jacket, hands getting tangled in Gabe’s scarf. 

“Could you cut the sex jokes? My one month old is sleeping in there.”

“A month old?”

“As of tomorrow.”

“Wow.” Gabe sighed. “And he still hasn’t met his uncle Gabe?”

Pete rolled his eyes. “You’re insufferable. You know that, right?”

“It’s all part of my charm, baby.” He huffed. “Are you going to invite your baby mama in, or what?”

“Jesus, what are you a vampire? And with the way you’re acting I’ll lock you out and have the receptionist kick you to the streets.” 

Gabe shook his head and pushed past him into the apartment. “Oh.”

“Something wrong?”

“Nothing. I just…”

“You what?”

“I forgot you do Christmas.”

“Oh.” Pete bit his lip. “I…I forgot you don’t.”

Gabe chuckled. “It’s fine. Just, well, it’s something we need to talk about if we’re going to be raising our kid together.”

“Yeah,” Pete shrugged sheepishly, scratching the back of his head. “Um, there’s pizza over there. Patrick’s treat. Bronx is in the crib. You can see him if you want.”

Gabe nodded, walking over to look at him. Pete twiddled his fingers and watched, surprisingly anxious, as Gabe hovered over his son. His anxieties were relieved as Gabe’s face lit up. “Oh my god…”

“What-“

“Hes beautiful, Pete.” Pete watched as tears formed in the corner of Gabe’s eyes. “He looks so much like you.”

Pete walked over and wrapped his arms around Gabe’s waist, looking around Gabe to stare down at his son, and rest his head on his shoulder. His hands hovered gently over Gabe’s belly, almost afraid to rest his hands on the bump. 

Gabe raised a hand to wipe his own tears, looking down at Pete. A streak of envy struck through him and he gently took Pete’s hand and placed it on his bump, watching Pete blush softly before coming to a soft realization as their baby kicked. 

Pete forced back his own tears. “Let’s go eat- okay?”

\- ~ -

It was half way through dinner when Pete cleared his throat. “So…”

Gabe looked up from his pizza. “So what?”

“So. How’s life? Anything new?”

“Besides you not telling my producer and your best friend the real reason for our four month break? Not much.”

Pete winced. “Gabe, come on. I was going to tell him eventually.”

“Well, as my boss, I’m a little disappointed in your negligence to tell your employees the state of affairs.”

“And as your lover?”

“You’re a piss-brained, dickwad, who needs to learn to own up to his actions and also use a condom.”

“That’s a little harsh.” 

“I’m tired and bitchy and pregnant. And since I’m tired and bitchy _because_ I’m pregnant, I can effectively blame you for my troubles.” He took a long sip of his ginger ale. 

Pete rolled his eyes. “You having any fun with your time off?”

“Not exactly. A lot of time at home, not a lot of activity. I’ve been thinking of getting a dog.”

Pete raised an eyebrow. “Really?”

“I’ve had a dog before, idiot. I like them, and I want someone to keep me company. I’m getting cabin fever, it’s ridiculous.”

“You can come over here more often. You’re always welcome.” 

“You lonely too?”

Gabe watched Pete chuckled. “If I’m being honest? More than you’d ever imagine.”

Gabe smiled weakly. “Oh, I can imagine.” 

Pete sighed. “So, you doing anything for, um, the holidays?”

Gabe laughed. “Chanukah starts in two days, so I’m going to my dads for the first night, then maybe Ricky and I will try and get to my moms at some point or another over the eight days. It’s better if we go together. Less awkward.”

Pete nodded. “Yeah. Um, are you doing anything the night of the twenty fourth?”

“Not unless that’s the only night Ricky has free. Which I doubt.”

“So, would you wanna come over or something?”

“What, you not going to Chicago?”

Pete sighed. “I was going to spend it here with Ashlee. By the time the divorce finalized, couldn’t get any tickets to O’Hare.”

Gabe bit his lip and nodded. “I can come. I’ll tell Ricky to fuck his plans, and his family.” 

Pete smiled. “Cool. I, I dunno.”

“You don’t want to be alone for Christmas Eve. I get it dude. I’ll be over.” Gabe grinned. “As long as i can bring my menorah and shit.”

“Whatever you want dude. It’s my half-jewish baby too.”

Pete watched Gabe roll his eyes, but he also smiled. “I want to punch you in your dumbass goy face some times.”

“Why not kiss me instead?”

“You know what?” Gabe stood up, setting his palms on the table, leaning over the pizza boxes so his face was less than two inches from the much shorter man’s. “I might just have to do that.”

Pete cupped Gabe’s face with his palm, pulling him in until their lips met. Their tongues locked in a fit of passion, while Gabe melted into Pete’s touch, moaning softly.”You’re such a little slut, aren’t you?” Pete hissed. 

“I haven’t gotten laid since you knocked me up. Let me have this.” 

“I’ll let you have more than just-“

Their vulgar discussions were broken up by the sound of Bronx crying. Pete pulled away quickly to go soothe his son. Gabe watched them, sighing. “You’re proving yourself more than I expected, Wentz.” He whispered, mostly to himself, far enough away that Pete couldn’t hear if he tried. “Maybe I don’t hate you as much as I thought.”

\- ~ -

Gabe sighed. Pete texted ‘come over between 4-5 tomorrow. Bronx is with Ashlee. You can ‘stay the night”. 

Now that wasn’t an offer he’d easily refuse. But 4-5 meant that if he stuck to his schedule of going to bed at 10 pm and waking up at noon the next day due to pregnancy hormones and general exhaustion, he’d have to get his gift shopping out of the way. His father, step mother, and step siblings gave him a couple, modest, baby-related gifts, forgoing tradition in place of ‘new baby’ excitement. He didn’t mind. It was nice to have the little things, a few onesies and bottles, nothing big, but still important things to have. He wasn’t sure when he was going to put all of the baby stuff, seeing as his bed took up three quarters of his bedroom and he wasn’t just going to leave her crib in the kitchen, but he was going to figure it out. He could re arrange the living room to free up more space-  
No. He was getting ahead of himself. Two and a half months was plenty of time to get in order. Right? Right. 

He walked through his neighborhood, landing himself in Chinatown and little Italy. It was a chilly day, not that he minded. He was used to the brisk New York weather, and the layers only helped to hide his baby bump. He was surprised paparazzi hadn’t caught on yet, but he would live with the crush to his ego. The baby was currently taking up residence on his bladder, which was almost as uncomfortable as when she used his rib cage as a punching bag. 

The little souvenir shop on the corner separating the Italian section from the Chinese (its quite alarming how distinct the separation was) was still open, and he hopped inside with the promise of the space heater in the door way. He had to duck his head to fit in the door, and keep it lowered at an angle that wasn’t comfortable in normal circumstances, much less while pregnant. He made his way to the counter with a couple of gifts for Pete and Bronx- a onesie that said “my uncle loves me, so he bought me this shirt”, and a cheesy, mass produced, ‘worlds #1 Dad’ coffee mug- both of which he probably paid way too much for. He made his way back home, taking the long way so that he could pick Pete some coffee to go along with the mug up on the way back home. The gifts were corny and goofy, but that’s what Pete liked, right? 

He chanted the blessings over the menorah by himself, taking a little too much pride in his singing voice for the prayer, but feeling the joy of the holiday all he same, imagining doing the same action in two or three years with his own daughter, as he ate the leftover latkes that Ilana sent home with him on Monday and going to bed early. 

\- ~ - 

Pete was nervous. It was almost 4:55 and Gabe still hadn’t showed up. The bastard was late, as per usual. It wasn’t until Gabe showed up at 4:58 that Pete relaxed. Then he almost slapped Gabe in the face. 

“Careful, dude. You don’t wanna break your present.” Gabe teased. Pete rolled his eyes and hugged him tightly. 

“You had me fuckin scared, dude.”

“I still made it in time, didn’t I?” Gabe chuckled, rubbing Pete’s back. 

“Yeah, for all I knew, ten minutes ago, you were mugged and stabbed and bleeding out in an alley somewhere.” Pete’s tone was sharp, but the concern shot through his harsh tone. 

“I’m insulted dude, I grew up in Queens, I know how to not get murdered.” He was taunting, but his tone was soft, almost nurturing. 

Pete nodded. He took a deep breath, smiling Gabe’s soap and cologne. He smiled. “You freshened up for me, Gabanti?”

“Had to impress my baby daddy some how.” He chuckled, looking down at him. “Why do you think it took so long to get here?”

Pete rolled his eyes. “You suck, Gabe,” he teased, but it was more gentle than aggressive. 

Gabe chuckled, setting his bag down on the table and taking the hastily wrapped gifts out of it. He handed them to Pete, who in turn, put them under his tree.

Pete smiled. “So, uh, you wanna do dinner first?” 

Gabe nodded. “What you got?

“Chinese. Only type of food still delivering-“

“Not true, I know at least half of Brooklyn is still open until like, 6.”

“Stop being a dick, would you?”

Gabe laughed. “That’s harder than it looks. But yeah, Chinese sounds good, as long as you got it veg.”

“Of course, dumbass. Anything for you.”

\- ~ -

After a quick dinner, and a half hearted attempt on both their parts to light Gabe’s menorah and not drip on the wires from the tree, the room was flooded with both soft LED and candle light. 

Gabe sat sprawled across the couch, legs folded as he rested his head on Pete’s lap. Pete played with his silky curls, occasionally leaning down to kiss his forehead. 

“You wanna do presents now, Gabanti?”

Gabe thought for a second, then nodded, getting up and handing Pete his gifts, Pete pulling his own from inside his pocket. “Here.”

Pete smiled. “Thank you.” He handed Gabe his, and they tore away at the paper at the same time. 

Pete chuckled at the onesie for Bronx, seemed a little relieved at the promise of coffee, and turned his attention to the mug. He chuckled at first, but to his surprise, he started tearing up. He looked down to Gabe’s bump, thinking about the baby, _their_ baby. He and Gabe were going to be parents. It was real. And Gabe… Pete was going to be in this child’s life. As a father. He couldn’t hold back as he started to cry. “Thank you, Gabey.”

Gabe’s face was stoic, staring down at the little, black, jewelry box in his hand. “Pete?”

“Yeah?”

“What… what’s this?”

“It’s just a little something-“

“Pete I’m not some fucking replacement to Ashlee! I’m not just a serial bride to replace the last one, who by the way you _cheated on_. No. Fucking. Way.”

“Gabe-“

“I don’t care, Wentz. Marriage isn’t something you throw around like this-“

”What the hell are you talking about?”

”You got me a fucking ring? Like, I dunno, a wedding ring?”

Pete sighed. “Open the box, Gabe.”

“What?”

“I said, open the box.”

Gabe glared at him, before doing so. Inside the box was a tightly linked gold chain. Gabe picked it up, face flushed. “I- I don’t know what say-“

“Gabe, you’re one of my two best friends. Have been for years. But I wouldn’t just…ask you to marry me one month after I divorced my wife. That’s not fair to either of us. I just wanted to give you something special. If you don’t like i-“

“It’s beautiful, Pete.” He sniffled, wiping his eyes. “Thank you. Goddamn, my gift looks really fucking dumb now.”

“Are you fuckin serious? You’re giving me the best gift of all, dude.” He reached down and placed his hand over the curve of Gabe’s bump. “I love you.”

Gabe situated himself so he could hold Pete close without disrupting the moment between him and their child. “I love you too.” He whispered. Pete nodded, clutching him closer. 

“Happy Chanukah, Gabanti.”

“Merry Christmas, Pete. I love you.”


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow!!! 2 months late on my self set deadline and still under the word count I wanted!!! Sorry this is so short, life got in the way and writers block is a bitch. 
> 
> As always, comments are really appreciated!!!

The night was a blur after that. Gabe could barely remember anything but warm blankets, soft kisses, and an entanglement of limbs and hearts, just remembering to blow out the candles on the table before turning in for the night. By the time he woke up, the heavy scents of coffee and breakfast wafted through the air. 

He swung his legs over the side of the bed, stretching himself out. At almost seven months, his bump was no where near what the pamphlets and articles said it should be. It wasn’t taught or round, or even that big. To be honest with himself, it looked more like beer gut than a baby bump. Not that he was going to complain at keeping his physique, but it only made it more jarring at the sudden burst of reality that was the baby kicking his bladder. 

He winced, getting up to waddle to the bathroom. To his disgruntlement, his hips made him look more pregnant than the bump did. The weight and pressure made them hurt constantly, and he felt like bones could snap at any instant. His body wasn’t made to carry a baby. Then again, would this have even been possible if he could not?

He finished his business and pulled his boxers back up. He sighed, muttering something to himself about at least having his dignity for standing while peeing, and heading back into the bedroom and out into the kitchen. 

Pete was at the counter, sipping his coffee while keeping half an eye on the food on the stove. “Hey Gabey,” he smiled. 

He mumbled groggily. “You got decaf Wentz?”

Pete shook his head. “Sorry. Ash took it with her.”

Gabe grumbled and slumped down in a chair at the table, sipping a stale cup of water from last night. “How’d you sleep?”

“Well, judging by temperament, better than you.”

He glared. “Wow, Thanks.” 

“What’s got you so grumpy?” Pete raised, tease in his voice and pout on his lips. 

“I’m pregnant, I’m allowed to be bitchy. Right?”

Pete rolled his eyes. “Sure you are, Saporta.” He chuckled, “How did you sleep?”

“Amazing. Can’t even be cynical there.”

He smiled. “That’s good. You want pancakes?”

“Shit dude, I’m starving, pass em over here.” Pete chuckled, and handed him a plate. He dug into the plate, ignoring Pete’s horrendous cooking. 

“So, you have any plans for later?”

“I mean, are you kicking me out?”

“No, I just thought you’d have plans for tonight-“

“Movie theaters and shitty take out from Brooklyn.”

“Oh.”

Gabe sighed. “I mean, do you want to do something together?”

Pete sighed. “I didn’t tell you until now. But I’ve got two tickets to O’Hare for 1:00 this afternoon. I…god, this sounds so fucking cliche, but I want you to meet my parents.”

“I’ve met your parents, asshole. And Chicago?”

“I mean, I want you to meet them as my boy- whatever we are. Partners.”

“That’s cheesy as fuck, Wentz.”

“I was supposed to take Ashlee, okay?” Pete sighed. “I was supposed to introduce the new baby to the extended family, and open Christmas presents, and look like a normal family.”

“If you’re going for normal, I ain’t a good replacement, Wentz.” He sighed. 

“Yeah, well, you don’t have to come. I told my parents not to bet on it, and not to worry about gifts cause you’re Jewish, and-“

“Doesn’t mean I don’t want fucking presents.”

“You’re a greedy bitch, and I’m not making my parents go shopping tonight for you. They said cause of the divorce, it’s just going to be us, them, and my brother and sister and their partners. No extended family. No weird baby questions. Deal?”

“Only if you meet my family.”

“I love your family, Gabe. Your dad’s chill as hell-“

“That was before you were _‘El hijo de Perra’_ that knocked his kid up.”

“Okay, maybe I don’t remember him that well. But your mom made good empanadas-“

“My _step_ -mom.” Gabe pointed out. “If I’m dealing with uncomfortable holiday dinner, you’re meeting the bitch herself.”

“Doesn’t she call you a fag?”

He shrugged. “Only one time. And besides, she’s not wrong.”

“When’s the last time you talked to her?”

Gabe actually had to think about that one. “Last Chanukah, so a year ago. Maybe two years ago.”

“And you want me to meet her?”

“Hey, it’s not fair. It’s payback. She’s not going to like you any more than she likes me.”

“Which is?”

“Not at all.”

Pete sighed. “You know, meeting my parents again wouldn’t be all that bad. And I don’t want you reconnecting with your mom just to punish me.”

He rolled his eyes. “There’s no fun in that.”

“You’re a piece of shit, Gabe.”

“I know, dumbass.” He sighed. “I should get going.”

“So you’re not coming with me to Chicago?”

He sighed again. “I’ll think about it, okay?”

“Let me know in an hour. I can pick you up on the way to the airport then.” 

Gabe looked at the clock on the stove. 10:30, he’d have to go home, pack, tell his land lord he was leaving, “When would you get back?”

“Day after tomorrow. Full day at home. Travie’s watching Hemmy so Stich will have a friend.”

Gabe nodded, looking at the door. “I’ll go with you. Just promise it won’t be awkward?”

“I can’t promise anything, Gabe.”

“But you’ll try?”

He nodded, sipping his coffee. “I’ll have the cabbie stop at your place on the way to LGA.”

\- ~ -

It took Gabe longer than he expected to pack. He didn’t want to appear as the pregnant home wrecker that destroyed Mr. and Mrs. Wentz’s son’s marriage. He settled on a couple of sweaters that did little to hide the bump, but didn’t bring too much attention to it. He was too far a long to deny anything, but he could at least save a little humility. 

By the time he was done, it was past 11:40 and Pete was already waiting for him in the lobby of the apartment building. He blushed, apologizing profusely as Pete helped him load his bags as well as his own into the new cab that he hailed. They got a weird look as they slid into the back, and Gabe thought for a split second the cabbie recognized him or Pete, but he readjusted the mirror and sped off to LaGuardia. 

\- ~ -

Christmas dinner with the Wentz family was the least pleasant thing Gabe had done in a while. Pete’s family lived in a _nice_ suburb of Chicago. Gabe thought Springfield was fancy when they first moved there. It was a pretty affluent suburb, but it was Jersey. There are still shoes hanging from phone wires in the richest neighborhoods in Jersey. This was how the rich lived in Chicago, sprawling estates in tract neighborhoods.

Gabe immediately felt under dressed in the heavy sweater and dark jeans he had changed into, despite Mr. Wentz’s outfit being hardly different. Pete’s home was big, and he felt overwhelmed. He felt like Pete had brought him home exclusively to piss off his parents. Here he was, the gay, Jewish, east coast _slut_ in the living room of midwestern luxury, decorated for Christmas. The family had gone all out for Christmas decor, and the candles in every window brought some homey nostalgia for Gabe. Even if it were the wrong holiday. 

Mrs. Wentz’s cooking was the highlight of the visit. It reminded Gabe of his own stepmothers cooking, comforting and familiar, substituting empanadas for mashed potatoes. He didn’t want to come across as rude, but he certainly didn’t say no when asked if he wanted seconds. 

He debated making the trip to see Bill, but decided against it. Bill wanted to see him, but his self confidence had taken a dip, and socialization was not his priority at the moment. 

The true horror came when it was time to open gifts. Gabe received nothing, which he expected, but the pain came with the thoughtless toward gifts for Bronx. Any gifts to Pete’s son were given tactlessly. He was still their grandson, still their nephew. Even his own cheesy gift had some though behind it, a little reminder for Pete that Gabe loved the little guy and wanted to be in his life as an uncle. 

Pete was unfazed by it, and that pissed Gabe off more than he thought. Was he so used to the disapproval of his family that he didn’t expect anything at all? 

When it was time to go, the discomfort didn’t end. Pete hugged both his parents, and for the first time it had a semblance of normality- Pete’s mom kissed his cheek, told him “I love you”, and he promised his father that he’d drive back to the hotel safely. 

Gabe wasn’t invited into a hug, or even a handshake. He knew he wasn’t really invited at all. 

\- ~ -

The car ride back to the hotel was eerily silent. Neither of them tried to make conversation, and neither of them had anything to say. They checked into the hotel, Pete receiving a weird look (the receptionist probably recognized him) and Gabe making sure his coat hung loose. The last thing they wanted was a scandal. 

To Gabe’s disappointment, the room had two beds, and Pete wasn’t going to risk going down to requesting a single. As soon as Pete shut the door, however, all tension broke. “You wanna tell me why you were being a dick to my parents?”

“How was I being a dick? I did nothing, sit still look pretty approach, right?”

“You seemed pretty stand offish, you were sitting the whole time-“

“My back and hips hurt like a bitch, Wentz. It hurt to sit, honestly, I’m not forcing myself to stand just for decorum.”

“You didn’t like, talk to my parents at all, you’re the most talkative person I know-“

“Pete, you didn’t send me here to be myself for them. You sent me here to stand in for Ash. I get that you don’t wanna show up alone. But I’m not Ashlee.” He set his stuff down on the bed and lowered himself down onto the floor to support his spine and hips. 

“I know that.” Pete sounded genuinely hurt. 

“You didn’t even introduce me,” he whined breathily, using the hardwood floor to readjust his spine and try to get out a knot. “You just said ‘You remember Gabe, right?’ then hid me away.”

“Gabe, what are you doing?”

“Stretching. Making it so I’m not in immense pain.” 

Pete rolled his eyes and patted the bed next to him. “Get up here, dumbass.” 

Gabe shook his head, and Pete grabbed his wrist, pulling him to a standing position and guiding him over to the bed. Gabe rolled his eyes as Pete laid down beside him. “Where does it hurt most?”

Gabe sighed. “Hips. My lower back. The lower part of the bump.”

Pete nodded, resting his chin on his shoulder and starting to work his strong, calloused hands up and down the small of Gabe’s back, working through the knots and stretching out the cartilage. Gabe moaned softly, whimpering when Pete finally got to his hips. 

Pete chuckled. “You horny?”

“I’m in pain, Wentz, give it a break.”

Pete rolled his eyes, rubbing the sore joints at the back of Gabe’s hips, where they widened against their own protest. Pete winced a little at the tight stretch marks splaying across the back side of his hips and back. He wasn’t built for this pain, his body rearranging to shift for a kid he wasn’t sure he wanted. Pete didn’t know what to do, so he did some of the exercises that he knew Ashlee needed. He watched Gabe’s back and side muscles spasm, before sighing. “Hey Gabe?”

“Yeah?” Gabe said, whimpering slightly. He was breathing harder. 

“You think these might be practice contractions?”

“That exists?”

“Yeah. It’s supposed to help widen your hips and get you stretched out when you have to go the full ten centim-“

“What?”

“Did you not know that your hips have to stretched ten centimeters to get her out?”

He shook his head. “I…”

“You could get a c section-“

“No way dude, I’m not having a fucking scar just cause you knocked me up.”

“I mean, you’re gonna have a baby. You can’t just forget that-“

“I’m going to be her _father_. Father’s don’t have c section scars.”

Pete sighed softly. “So she’s gonna call you Dad?”

“I’d like that.”

He nodded, rubbing Gabe’s side, soothing the tense muscles. 

Gabe turned his head to look at him. “Do you want to be Dad?”

He sighed again. “I mean…yeah. I don’t want to take that from you. But I want to be her father too.”

“I mean, we can both be her parents, Wentz.”

“Bronx already calls me Dad.”

“Should I care?” Gabe sighed. “Pete, I’m sorry, he’s a month old. If you want to change what he calls you, there’s still time.”

“I know.”

“She’s not calling me mom.”

“Of course not dude,” Pete sounded taken aback. “I never expected that-“

“Then what do you want her to call me, since you’re so possessive over ‘Dad’.”

“I dunno, like, papa or some shit.”

He sighed, thoughtfully. “I mean…I could work with that. It’s Dad in Spanish.”

Pete nodded. “Are you gonna teach her Spanish?”

Gabe rolled his eyes. “No, I’m never going to _ever_ talk to my child in my native language.” He spat, dripping with sarcasm. 

“I was just asking-“

“I know. But it was a dumb question.”

Pete sighed. “We need to talk about what we’re gonna call her, too.”

“No.”

“No?”

“You’re not supposed to name a baby until after it’s born. Jewish tradition.”

“Do you really want me to name our baby when you’re either passed out from birth or hyped up on pain killers?”

“We can wait to name her after she’s born, it doesn’t have to be right away. Some people wait like, a week.”

“We’re famous, Gabe. We can’t just wait-“

“The public doesn’t know about the baby. And when they find out, they won’t care.”

He sighed. “Gabe-“

“Pete, fuck off, okay? It’s my fucking kid. And I want to raise her with my culture-“

“What about my culture? My family-“

“Your family couldn’t give a shit about Bronx, Pete. I don’t see why they’d care anymore about this kid.” He snapped, turning around to face Pete. 

“They care, Gabe. It’s just hard, okay? Their eldest son is having two babies with two different people, three months apart. They’re trying not to pass judgement. But it’s hard for all of us to act like this is normal. Especially with you here.”

He sighed. “I’m sorry.”

“No. I’m sorry for inviting you. I didn’t mean for it to be so stressful.”

He sighed, looking down at himself. The baby was kicking lightly, so he placed his hand against it and rubbed it gently. She became more excited at first, but then relaxed against his hand. He looked back up at Pete. “I guess we could _discuss_ names.”

Pete perked up. “You don’t have to.”

“We’re not deciding on anything. I’m just making sure you don’t name my baby something dumb.”

He nodded. “What about Brooklyn? Like, Brooklyn and Bronx.”

Gabe laughed. “First of all, that’s stupid. Second, I’m from Queens, asshole.”

“Queenie?”

“That’s almost as dumb as Bronx.”

“Well, what names do you think aren’t dumb?” Pete riffed, a little hurt. 

“Something more traditional. I’m not having a ‘celebrity baby name’.”

“Gee, I get it, you hate my kids name.” Pete huffed, standing up. 

“I didn’t mean it like that, Pete,” he sighed. “I just…I want her name to be something important.”

“What, like Pete Wentz IV?”

He sighed again. “Petra’s kinda cute-“

“No.”

“Maria, Sarah, Joseanna, Diego-“

“That’s not a girls name.”

“Do I care? I’m not naming her after Jeanette. And you said I can’t name her after you.”

“What about Dale. Or Louise. For my mom.”

He nodded softly. “Yeah…I like that. We can keep those in mind.”

Pete nodded too. “Anything else you liked?”

He sighed. “I…I like Rebekah. After my grandmother.”

Pete nodded. “That’s pretty. I like that. It’s perfe-“

“Just to keep in mind. We’re _not_ deciding.” He said defiantly. “We’re waiting. Until she’s born. You know.”

Pete nodded, sitting back down next to him. “I know. We’re waiting.”

Gabe sighed. “Thank you.”

Pete smiled, laying back down next to him. 

Gabe sighed. “Any other names you were thinking of?”

“Nah. I mean, Rhiannon is cute-“

“Fleetwood Mac?”

“Yeah.”

Gabe chuckled. “Yeah. That is cute.” He grinned. 

Pete smiled. “Whatever we decide, it’ll be cute. She’ll be cute.” Gabe nodded, looking over at the empty bed, before leaning in for a kiss. 

“I hope you know I’m not leaving.”

“Of course not.” Pete smiled, stroking his cheek. Gabe cuddled near as they fell asleep in the comfortable silence.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I know that it’s an Ashkenazi superstition not to name the baby after anyone that’s still living. However, the superstition doesn’t hold true for Sephardic Jews and I know Gabe’s at least a little Sephardi. Also I’m bad at coming up with names so there’s that.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Almost at the end!!! (I think)
> 
> Sorry it's been so long- I probably will be making more edits to this soon, but I'm surprisingly confident in this lol
> 
> I'm also working on a new project coming soon to either here, or my wattpad, so that's fun!
> 
> also huge shout out to @lilianasnow for being an awesome friend/beta reader

Gabe sat with his head in his hands. Across his counter were a myriad of housing articles and apartment listings, printed out and arranged based on whatever made sense. Damn housing market, damn regression, damn fucking job insecurity. The late January cold saturated his bones, doubling up layers of now ill-fitting hoodies and XXL sweaters. He almost didn’t notice the sound of the door opening. 

“What do you want?” He snapped. 

“Geez, Saporta, what’s got you all bitchy?” Pete chuckled, walking over and kissing his cheek. Gabe rolled his eyes. 

“I’m looking at new apartments. I need one with a room for the baby.”

“Why? Can’t she just stay in your room? Or the living room? -“

“Pete, my family lived in a one-bedroom apartment until I was 12. There’s not a chance in _hell_ that I’m raising my own baby in my own room,” he sighed. “Especially not when I paid my dad’s mortgage off last year and still have enough money to do shit. I don’t care if I have to go to Long Island for it, I’m not staying here.” 

Pete sighed, looking around. “I thought you loved this apartment.”

Gabe sighed as well, following his gaze. He really did love this place, he loved the location, the city, the culture- but he couldn’t justify it. “I love my kid more, Wentz. I’m not raising a kid in a one-bedroom apartment, not when I can afford to give them the life they deserve.”

Pete nodded, going out to look at the window. “You could move in with me, you know.”

Gabe laughed- a strong, steady laugh. “Yeah right. I’ll move into the apartment that you lived in with your ex-wife, reuse the nursery that you’re still half using for your son that you have joint custody of, sleep in the bed where you and your wife slept, you know, before she learned that you cheated on her. With me.”

Pete sighed. “Gabe- “

“Pete, I am not Ashlee. I never will be. I love you. But I’m not going to move in just to have to find a new place to live with my baby four months later because it turns out you cheated on me with like, Patrick or some shit.”

“Patrick’s straight.”

“Yeah, cause that’s the only thing wrong with that.” Gabe sighed. “Pete, you’re still my best friend. But you haven’t exactly proven to me that you’re the best partner. I…I want to stick alone until I’m sure. Go a little lone wolf. Just for a bit,” he shook his head. “I don’t even know what I’m saying. Two bedrooms, one and a half bath, full kitchen, in Flushing.” He handed Pete a listing. “I’m going to check it out tomorrow. Want to come?”

Pete shook his head, a little hurt by what was just said. After that, he sighed, took Gabe’s hand. “Can I stay over the night, then? I’ve missed sleeping with you- “

“I’m too fat now for sex, Wentz,” Gabe grumbled. In his defense, the baby had a growth spurt since the holidays. Even without the visible change, his body was in an incredible amount of pain from the weight and stretch of his hips. 

“I didn’t mean getting laid. I just miss your company, dude.”

Gabe rolled his eyes. “You don’t even like to spoon, Wentz. And, I’m sure you’ll sleep so much better when I’m snoring, you insomniac.”

“At least I’ll get something pretty to look at while I’m up.” Pete immediately ducked to avoid the (empty) plastic cup thrown towards his face. 

“That’s fucking creepy,” Gabe snapped. “What the hell?”

“What the hell is up with you, Saporta? You’re never like this. You’re fucking cynical all the time,” Pete groaned. “I just wanted to spend time with you. I’m trying to make myself a part of your life. And all I’m getting is sarcasm and attitude- “

“Well maybe if I wasn’t fucking pregnant, then our problem would be solved,” he snapped. Pete looked taken aback, obviously hurt. Gabe sighed. “I’m sorry. This just…this really sucks right now. And I care about you a lot Pete. And I care about our baby, I’m just- “

“Scared?”

“No, not scared, just…well, maybe sort of scared.” He admitted. “Maybe very scared.” He looked down softly at the bump, resting his hand right over his baby. “I…I love her a lot, Wentz. But all I know about babies comes from my little brother and he was born when I was two. I’ve looked shit up online, and all I get is contradicting sources telling me to do this, then not to do it, then do it again, and it’s all bullshit. I just want to have my baby safely. I want to cuddle her and keep her safe, but I can’t do all that 24/7 once she’s born. I need to move, don’t you see? Is not that I want to- “

“It’s that you need to make a place in the world that’s safe for her.” Pete concluded. Gabe looked up; eyebrow quirked. “You’ve got what, a month left? It’s simple. It’s nesting, Gabe. It’s completely normal. It’s got to be hard in this situation. But it’s instinct. No one can or should blame you for instinct.”

Gabe nodded softly, cradling her head as she pushed her face against his hand. “I don’t know how I’m supposed to do it, though. I feel so- “

“Helpless? It’s okay. I promise, it’s alright.” Pete got up and leaned up, standing on his toes to kiss his partner. “I think I will go to see that apartment with you tomorrow. Might as well.”

“Really?” 

“Yeah. How about this? I can help you pack and move, but while you’re still here, you can do whatever the fuck you want to my apartment. Redecorate, re-wire the building, bulk order pillows, and diapers, and whatever your head says we need to have a healthy, happy baby.”

He looked like he was about to cry. “You mean it?”

“Course I do. You’re takin care of my baby, Saporta. Whatever you need to do take care of the baby. _Our_ baby.”

Gabe grinned, wrapping his free arm around Pete and pulling him close, kissing his lips. Pete laced his fingers with Gabe’s over their child, leaning deeper into the kiss. The baby squirmed a little at first, but soon settled, relaxing into her mother and father’s grip. She wasn’t used to the extra attention as of late. Honestly, it was only recently that Gabe had begun to truly think of her as a ‘she’. As a human being, rather than just the pest making his life hell. She had begun to develop her own personality in his mind, gentle and calm, but never turning down the opportunity for attention. He spoke to her sometimes, complaining about his life situation, speaking fast Spanish, and making sure she was updated on what mattered (usually reports on Uruguayan energy sustainability or stocks in the music industry). He let himself enjoy this place in the world, even though he’d never admit it. 

“I love you, Pete.”

“Love you too, Gabanti,” Pete sighed, holding him close. “Now... there’s something I have to talk to you about.”

Gabe rolled his eyes. “What?”

“Your job. Music. The ‘new record’?” Pete sighed. “I wouldn’t ask, but Patrick’s kind of on my ass about it.”

Gabe pulled away slowly. “Right. What’s happening.”

“I’m pushing for you guys to go into a cabin in the Catskills to record and finalize, like they did for pretty odd- “

“Or we did for While the city sleeps- “

“You know what I mean.”

“They stole our idea!”

“Gabe, listen. You need to put out some music. I need you to take care of yourself. Get out of the public eye for a little while. Just for a few weeks. Enough to record. Please, we don’t want to lie to the fans.”

Gabe sighed. “I don’t want to disappoint them either. But the baby’s being born here. Or in Jersey. Hell, even Chicago if you insisted. But I ain’t having her in the middle of fucking nowhere.”

“As long as you’re not hauling my ass to South America to have the baby, deal. It’ll only be a few weeks with the band. You’ll have a week after you get back to make everything perfect. I can take care of moving.”

“I’m not sure if I trust you, Wentz.”

“How hard could it be? I’ll send you picture updates. Do you still need baby stuff?”

“Like what?”

“Crib, diapers, clothes, bottles- “

“Shit, dude, I don’t have anything, honestly- “

“No, Gabe, calm down, it’s okay. I can get stuff ready. Just tell me what you need?”

“Uh, well, _everything_?” He shrugged. 

“You have nothing?”

“Well, you’re not supposed to get stuff for a baby before it’s born, right?”

“No! Gabe, this is when you’re supposed to get everything ready, what?”

“I don’t know, I remember my mom saying that, don’t name the baby before it’s born, don’t name it after people living or it’ll die young, don’t buy stuff for a baby cause if you do, it’ll die- “

“Was your mom on crack?”

“Yeah, probably!” Gabe blushed, “I mean, I don’t want her to die.” 

Pete sighed. “It’s okay. I know you were just doing what you thought was right. But Jesus, Saporta. We’ve got a month.”

“Is that not enough time?”

“No, it’s fine. It’ll be fine. I mean, you could just be my roommate for a little bit, and we could just get another crib for the nursery so that we don’t have to worry about furnishing a new apartment right away- “

“Yeah, Pete, that’s fine. I mean, it’ll just be temporary, and then once she’s born, I can focus on the new place without having to worry about her needing a place- “

“Exactly. We can swap houses, you can nest in my apartment and take care of the new baby, while I help you move. Sounds fair?”

“Pete, you don’t have to-  

“Yes. I do, Gabe. That’s my baby too, you know.”

He sighed. “I know. And I know that you do love her too. I’m just…so nervous about how it’s all going to turn out.”

“It’s going to turn out fine. Trust me.”

“Why do you say it’s going to be fine?”

“Because it’s us. Cause it’s our baby. And she’ll be fine.”

“And if she’s not?”

“We cross that bridge when we get to it.”

 

\- ~ -

 

“Let’s try it again from the top, okay?” Ryland sighed. They had been at it for hours, trying to finish at least one song that day. They had tracked the drums, but everyone else still needed to record. 

“I’m not even recording, why do I have to be here,” Gabe rolled his eyes. 

“Yeah, you’re not even doing a good job singing, anyway.” Victoria spat. 

“Like you’d do so much better with a baby cramping your lungs,” Gabe retorted. “Damn cold doesn’t help!”

“Take a fucking antihistamine or something.”

“I can’t, not with the baby!”

“Maybe it’d be better if you didn’t have the baby at all!”

He sighed, rolling his eyes and trying to stretch again. The sooner they were done with this song, the sooner he could go lie down. He was two weeks away from giving birth, and even standing around to record was miserable. His body ached, and he could barely stand with the pain in his knees and joints. “You know what? Maybe- “

“Can we please just get it over with?” Suarez mumbled. “I need a fucking nap.”

“Well maybe if you had slept last night instead of fucking your boyfriend- “

“We didn’t do anything!” Ryland rolled his eyes. “He’s just tired.”

Vicky rolled her eyes. “Fine. Let’s try it again.”

“Hold on, I got to piss.”

“You had to piss ten minutes ago, Saporta.”

“And? Dude, my body doesn’t know what the fuck is going on.”

“We’ve got one week left here and three songs left to track for the album. Gabe, can you hold it for three minutes?” Ryland sighed. 

“I wouldn’t mind a five-minute break,” Alex stood up. “I need a little break.”

Victoria groaned. “You know what? Fuck it. We’re getting nowhere. Not like this- “

“Guys, can we please just finish this?” Ryland sighed. “Come on.”

“Ryland, face it, we're done for today,” Vicky sighed.

“Guys, in the time we spent arguing, I could have gone to the bathroom- “

“In that time, we could have had the tracks recorded by now!”

Alex groaned. “Can we finish up? I think I’m catching Gabe’s cold or something.”

Vicky groaned. “You don’t just suddenly ‘catch a cold’.” She shook her head. “If you don’t feel well, then we should- “

“Finish it up now before you get sicker.” Ryland interjected. 

Gabe groaned. “Ryland, if he’s sick, I can play bass.”

“Are you sure?” Vicky looked him up and down cynically, eyeing her flaws with that plan.

“It was my fucking job for six fucking years, Victoria. Maybe I’m out of practice, but I can still fucking play guitar while pregnant. _I’m not useless_!” He snapped. The room fell silent. Ryland looked around. Alex had his arms crossed low; eyes rolled back in his head. He looked feverish, and slightly relieved at Gabe’s offer. Victoria was pouting like a bratty child and Gabe stood his ground, despite looking on the verge of tears.

“I think returning to this tomorrow is a great idea,” Ryland said quietly. He placed his guitar in his case and watched Gabe, then Victoria leave silently. Alex still sat there, perched on the amp with his eyes closed. Ryland walked over and sat next to him. “You okay, man?”

“I’m fine, Ry. Just not feeling great. But thanks,” he sighed. He linked Alex’s left hand with his right, squeezing softly. Alex grinned. “I love you.”

“I love you too, Suarez.”

 

\- ~ -

 

Gabe was already asleep when Alex snuck in. The cabin was large, but the walls were thin, and the floors were creaky. The mid-February winds blew harsh around the house, and it only made him miss the city more. The Catskills were nice and all, and the cabin was cozy, but he missed the Brooklyn apartment he and Ryland shared. He missed the familiar kitchen, the postage stamp bathroom, the bed that took up the entire room, yet was still too small for their long limbs. He pulled his light green sweated tight around himself as he crept into Gabe’s room, silently as possible

Ryland was in the shower, and the bed was too empty to fall asleep. And god knows, he needed some sleep. They had been working for weeks on the new album, trying to piece something together to cover their asses for the four-month break. Victoria was pissed at Gabe, who was uncomfortably pregnant, fighting a bad cold, and not in the mood to work. Alex wanted to be pissed at Gabe, it was his fucking mistake, they should still be on tour, writing a few songs after shows or in the green room, and maybe working towards an album. 

But as much as Alex wanted to be pissed at Gabe, he couldn’t. He couldn’t bear to blame his friend for doing something as simple as loving his child. Gabe was struggling, and the situation with Pete was still a mystery to Alex. All he knew was Gabe was living alone, still, and had no intention of tying the knot.

The curtains were still open in Gabe’s room, with the bedside light still on. He didn’t intend to fall asleep when he did, that much was apparent. At eight and a half months, Alex could almost see the pressure the child was having on his friends’ hips. Gabe wasn’t a small guy, but the baby seemed huge. Alex noticed the way Gabe ran out of breath while singing, the pressure inside of his body impeding his ability. It looked horrible, and he was insanely jealous. 

Alex sat down at the foot of the bed, watching Gabe take slow shallow breaths. It was almost half an hour before Gabe woke up, confused and alarmed by the shadowy figure, but immobile and unable to react to it. “What?”

“Hey, sorry, it’s just me, dude.” Alex sighed. “I can go if- “

“Suarez? Nah man, stay, cuddle up. I’m cold. And lonely. Where’s your boy toy?”

“Shower.”

“Ah. Okay.”

Alex sighed, following Gabe’s advice and curling up next to him. It was hard to maneuver around the bump, trying to keep Gabe in the more comfortable position. “Thanks. For earlier.”

“Don’t mention it. I hope I’m not giving you the cold I may or may not actually have. I think there’s too much dust here, it could be allergies. Or my pregnancy immune system being an asshole.” He groaned. “If I didn’t love her, I’d hate her.”

“How is she?”

“She’s fine. She’s sleeping. God, I want this over with. Guess how much the doctor says she weighs already?”

“Um, I don’t know. How much?”

“Seven pounds. Seven fucking pounds, Suarez. And I’ve still got like, two weeks. I think I’m going to die.”

“You won’t die.”

“I know, but I feel like I will.” He sighed, wrapping his arms around his friend and pulling him close. “Sorry. Is this weird?”

“No. I like it.” Alex admitted. Gabe hummed a little, stretching out and closing his eyes. 

“Good. My body’s been feeling really weird lately. Baby hormones and shit. I haven’t had a good hug in forever. I miss McCoy. Trav gives good hugs. Bill wasn’t that good at hugs, but he was good at pressure. Pete’s sweet, but he’s so distant, you know? Doesn’t appreciate a good cuddle.”

“Damn, how touch starved are you?”

“Very. My mom never loved me, Suarez, I’m always touch starved,” he chuckled a little, but both knew he wasn’t joking. “You’re cool with this though, right?”

“Yeah, man,” he sighed, wrapping his arms around his friend. It felt good, the weight of another person, the comfort, the extra heat of the new baby curled up between them. Ryland was all skin and bones, he was used to providing the weight and the density, his comfortable weight as a counterbalance to his partners lanky frame. But Gabe was different. Even before the baby, Gabe had more substance to him, More muscle, more fat, more warmth. He was nothing compared to Ryland, not in Alex’s eyes, and their relationship always remained platonic. But the fraternal, and now maternal, love Gabe had for everyone around him made for a woozy comfort. 

“Gabe?”

“Yeah Suarez?”

“I think I’m pregnant.”

Gabe opened his eyes a little, looking for a hint of a joke on the shorter man’s face. There was none to be seen. “Why do you think that?”

“I’m more tired. I’ve been feeling nauseous all the time. I mean, Ryland and I don’t always use protection, and it’s always been whatever so it’s a possibility.” Alex nuzzled into the pillow a little. “I feel like you’d be the least likely to judge." 

“I mean, I’m not a fucking hypocrite. Congrats. You wanted this, right?”

Alex sighed. “Me? Yeah. Ryland and me? No.”

Gabe sighed. “You think he doesn’t want it?”

“We decided months ago we’re not ready?”

“You think I was ready?”

“Gabe,” Alex sighed. “Ryland doesn’t want biological kids at all because of his severe scoliosis and shit. We need to be in a better place before we even commit to adoption." 

Gabe met Alex’s eyes. “You’re debating getting rid of it?”

Alex nodded; eyes still closed. “I mean, I haven’t told Ryland. I don’t think I will. Not if I can help it.”

“Are you sure?”

“Gabe, I…I don’t know.”

“I mean, if one of us is already having a kid, two of us could warrant the band taking a break. You want the kid, right? It’s fine timing. Best friends with my baby. It’ll be cute.” He hummed a little, rubbing Alex’s lower back in a way that relieve tension and pain that Suarez didn’t realize he had. 

“Gabe, I’m not _you_.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“You make your world work for you. You don’t let anyone control you. When you want something, you go for it. You’re stubborn as shit, and you suck to work with. But I’m jealous. I’ve always admired you for being able to say, ‘fuck you’ like that.” He sighed. “I can’t be you.”

“You don’t have to be me to get your way.”

“Sometimes, I don’t want to be you, Gabe.” He sighed. “I’m okay being me. And I’m okay waiting.”

Gabe sighed. “Are you sure?”

“Not at all, dude,” Alex chuckled, wiping his eyes. Gabe pulled him close, wiping his own eyes as well. 

“Ugh, look at us. Pregnant saps,” Gabe teased, and Alex laughed. 

“Yeah. Ugh, god, this sucks. Sorry we were all so hard on you.”

“It’s okay, dude. How far along are you?”

“Two months at most,” he sighed. “More than enough time to get rid of it.”

Gabe nodded, feeling his daughter start to stir. He groaned. If she didn’t fall back to sleep, then she’d keep him up. Fuck that. “Hey man? Do you mind if I rock us back and forth a little? I want to get baby to go back to sleep.”

Alex nodded. “Of course. Go for it.” 

Gabe hummed, rocking them just a little. Alex yawned, and Gabe sighed. “I’m taking you to breakfast tomorrow, okay Suarez?”

Alex nodded, eyes drooping. “Whatever, Saporta. Love you, man.”

Gabe sighed. “Love you too.” Eventually, Suarez drifted back off to sleep, as did the baby, settling right between Gabe’s hips. He let himself relax into sleep, ignoring the cold and the snow outside, instead focusing on the warmth and peace of the room, filled with four beating hearts. 

 

\- ~ -

 

“Gabe, you do realize I could’ve made us a much better breakfast back at the house, right?”

“You don’t understand the fun of going out for breakfast, do you Suarez?” Gabe rolled his eyes. “It’s an adventure.”

“Says the eight and a half months pregnant guy with limited driving experience on the icy road on the way to a tiny diner in the middle of Hicksville with another probably pregnant man in the passenger seat. How is this not a terrible idea?”

“Cause it’s fun. You don’t understand fun, Suarez.”

“Gabe, in the least we’re going to get called fags.”

He rolled his eyes. “Fine. Then we can get food to go. But I want shitty pancakes and I’m treating you for whatever you want.”

Alex sighed. “I’ll order to go. I’d rather eat at home.”

“You really don’t understand fun, do you?” Gabe rolled his eyes. “I’m trying to make this cool. Having babies is stressful, you got to take care of yourself.”

Suarez sighed. “I’m not having a baby, Gabanti.”

“Yeah, well I am. And you could in theory.”

“Yeah, but I’m not!”

“Goddamn it, Suarez, let me have this!” He snapped, pulling over the car. 

“Let you have what?”

“Something!” He yelled, but his voice cracked, on the verge of tears. “No one else knows what’s happening to me right now, how isolating, how…lonely it all is. I’m never going to go back to normal after this, unless she dies or something, and then it can’t be normal cause I lost a baby. Pete gets to live his life. You guys get to live your life. And I…I’m stuck here, Suarez. I’m stuck being someone’s mother until I die, or she dies. And most of the time, I know I can’t handle it. It’s so… I feel so…”

Alex sighed, taking his hand. “I know.”

Gabe nodded. “This sucks so much, you guys don’t even understand. It’s so hard to be comfortable in my own skin. I can’t sleep, I can’t eat, I have to eat, I get heartburn almost constantly, I can’t see my swollen as hell feet, I’m always tired, my hips ache, I don’t fit in any of my clothes, the baby doesn’t understand that I like to sleep sometimes, and to top it all off, Pete’s probably cheating on me with some peroxide groupie, and I don’t have a house at the moment. Alex, I don’t have a home to go home to.” He groaned. “You know how much it sucks to be eight and a half months pregnant and relying on your ‘partner’ to get everything perfect?”

Alex chuckled. “You’ve really been going through something, haven’t you?”

Gabe nodded, closing his eyes. “Going through something doesn’t begin to cover it.”

“So basically, it’s horrible?”

He nodded. “Yeah. This sucks. Imagine personal hell, but it’s supposed to be cute and fluffy and sweet. Makes me want to vomit. No wonder my mom hated me.”

“That is not why your mom hated you. You know that,” Alex sighed. “Is it worth it?”

Gabe groaned, starting the car again. “That’s a question you should ask me in 2 weeks, okay Suareazy?”

“Alright. I want to see her once she’s born, y’know.”

“You and me both, Suarez. She better be fucking cute. I swear to god if she looks like Pete…” he rolled his eyes and Alex sighed. 

“I hope our kid looks like Ry. If we had the kid, that is,” he shook his head. “I could never do what you’re doing, Gabe.”

“What do you mean?”

“Four weeks of maternity leave? Seven weeks without your baby? I couldn’t handle that.” He sighed. “I love this band. I don’t think I could give up this band for a baby. But I couldn’t go seven weeks without my baby.”

Gabe sighed. “I don’t know if I can either. But she’ll be with my dad and Ilana, who I trust to take care of her. And I can’t lose my job over this mistake.”

“Gabe, a baby doesn’t have to be a mistake if you don’t want it to.”

“She was a mistake, Suarez. There’s no getting around it. I can still love her. And she could be the best thing to happen to me. But she was a mistake.”

“Still- “

“Even if she’s not a mistake, I made some mistakes. I had sex with Pete. I fucked my boss. There’s no way around that mistake. Or my choice to keep her being uneducated. But I’m willing to live with it.”

“Gabe, that doesn’t mean anything. It’s still a baby. Not a mistake,” Alex sighed.

Gabe sighed. “Jealousy doesn’t look good on you, Suarez.”

“That obvious?” He laughed a dry laugh. “I’m sorry, I just… I wanted this for so long. And I know I can’t have it. Which makes it only more frustrating to watch you live out the dream." 

"I know. I'm sorry. If it makes you feel any better, I want you to be there. In her life."

"Really?"

"I can't do this alone Suarez. And I'm afraid I'm going to have to."

"You won't be alone. I'm just a phone call away. Remember that," He sighed softly, while Gabe nodded. "Now let's go get some pancakes, shall we?"

 

\- ~ -

 

Gabe pulled the soft sweater over his belly, trying to fix his hair in the mirror. Pete was coming over any minute to take him down to Springfield to visit his father, as they never got to around the holiday season. He gently hummed to his daughter, waddling as he tidied up around the new apartment. 

To be fair, he had underestimated Pete. The apartment was only a few blocks from where he grew up, but it was in a whole different world. Albeit small, it had more than enough room to fit his king size bed in the master, a tiny living room, and a nursery just big enough to someday hold a twin bed. 

Pete had effectively moved everything in, and even though Gabe spent a few days rearranging it to his liking, it was perfect. Pete had stocked up on everything, diapers, formula, blankets, clothes, pacifiers, and more than he could even imagine. The decorations were minimal, and Gabe had to laugh at the little pictures of him and Pete from long ago placed on the shelf, next to his most recent ultrasound, and Bronx’s birth announcement. Pete had found a beautiful mahogany crib (that must have cost a small fortune) and a matching rocking chair. Gabe may not like to admit how much time he spent in that chair, crying, humming, or a combination of the two, attempting to create the best world in his ability to take care of his unborn daughter. 

He ran his hand over the hard wood of the crib, running his fingers in the carved grooves, and using his free hand to trace his belly, placing gentle attention where his daughter pressed up against his hand. He embraced the silence before the phone rang, and he grumpily waddled over to answer it. 

“Hello?”

“Gabe?” Patrick asked, and Gabe sighed. 

“What’s up, Stump?”

“Oh, good. The phone works. How’s the apartment?”

“Uh, it’s good? Did Wentz tell you to call?”

“What? Oh, no, I just helped him set up while you were away, so I wanted to know if you liked it.”

“Oh, yeah, it’s great dude. Thanks. How much did Pete spend decorating this place?”

“Well…” Patrick seemed nervous. “Probably more than he should have.”

Gabe scoffed. “You got that right. Fucker paid the down payment too. That’s $5000 out of pocket alone that he dropped on me. What the hell?”

“Gabanti, he’s just being nice.”

“And he’s not learning the lesson I was trying to teach him!”

“Which is?”

“He couldn’t buy his way out of his problems!”

“Gabe– “

“You know I grew up poor! He knows I grew up knowing that if someone buys something for you, you’re indebted to them. I hate feeling tied to him, ‘Trick. I don’t want to owe him anything!”

“You don’t owe him anything. He wouldn’t do it if he didn’t want to.”

“Unless he’s doing it to trap me. Cause he knows if I don’t want to be around him anymore, he practically owns where I live. Do you know how much shit he bought for our baby?”

“He’s doing it because he wants you to know he loves you and your baby.”

“And he does that by indebting them to him?”

Patrick sighed. “You know what love languages are, right Gabanti?”

Gabe rolled his eyes. “I was a fucking psych major, Stump.”

“Pete expresses his love in two ways. One, writing dramatic poetry that’s not all that great, but sure as hell makes catchy tunes. Or two- buying people shit.” Patrick explained carefully. “Him buying you things you need is his way of saying ‘I want to be in your life. I want to take care of you.’ Not that he has to take care of you guys. That he wants to and will go out of his way to make you comfortable.”

“I don’t need him to take care of me, Stump. And it’s not like he cares, he just wants to seem like less of an asshole. He just wants custody rights.”

“Gabe are you even listening to what I’m saying?”

“What do you mean?”

“You two are fucking idiots. He’s buying you stuff because he _loves_ you. He’s spending a lot of money because he’s getting the best. He’s buying the best for his little girl. He’s treating you, because he knows it’s what you deserve. You don’t see that he loves you, because you don’t understand that he says I love you like that.”

“Patrick, I- “Gabe choked up.

“Stop. You’re not to blame, Gabe, it goes both ways, and in the end, he’s just as much as a dumbass. He never realized that you opened up to him about your mental health because you loved him. He never realized that you physically attached to him because you loved him. I saw it right away. Maybe it’s because we both have ADHD, maybe it’s because I know Pete, maybe it’s just cause I know you- but I know how much you love him. I know you let yourself tick around him. I know you let him know what you need. And I know it’s hard for you- it’s hard for me. But you let yourself do that around him. And it shows.”

Gabe sniffled, wiping his eyes. “You really…”

“I laid it all out for him yesterday and he almost cried. He loves you a lot Gabe. He just had no idea you loved him back just as much. If he’s clingy tonight- “

“Thanks, Stumpman,” Gabe chuckled, wiping away his tears. “I love you man.”

Patrick sighed. “I love you too, Gabanti. Take care, alright?”

Gabe nodded, and hung up. He sat down in the rocking chair and started to cry. Pete loved him; Pete had loved him the whole time. Pete was more than excited to have their baby, he loved their baby, Pete was ready to take care of their baby. He eventually pulled himself together enough to answer when Pete rang the doorbell. 

He opened the door and was tackled in a huge hug. “Hey, Saporta.”

Gabe smiled. “Hey, Wentz.”

Pete rubbed his back, right where he wanted him to, in a way that was just the right amount of stimulation. God, Patrick Stump was a literal angel. “You smell like Clorox.” He chuckled. 

“Everything’s got to be clean for the baby,” he shrugged. “Plus, the grime was getting on my nerves.”

“What grime? You keep the place immaculate. You’re the only damn person I know to organize a tour bus.” Pete teased, holding him close. 

“Sensory shit, dude. I can barely handle Nate’s bunk. Much less the whole bus being like yours.”

Pete nodded. “I know." He ran his hand through Gabe's bouncy curls, holding him tight. "You're you, And that's what I love about you. I love you.”

Gabe sighed, finally able to relax into those words, with no hesitation in believing them. “I love you too.”


End file.
